The Faded Attic
The bread is stale, yet it is the only thing in this stone-walled infirmary that does not taste of rot, and you hold it in your trembling hands as if it were a holy relic, a fragment of the world before the fever took hold of the abbey and before it took hold of you. You are Elias, or you were, for the name has begun to slip from your mind like water through a cracked vessel, leaving behind...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen