The Distant Journey
The dream was a house made of teeth. Margaret Holloway woke with the taste of copper in her mouth. The ceiling above her was white. Cracked. A spider web caught the gray light of early morning. She lay still. Her hands were clenched. The sheets were damp. Sweat. Cold sweat. She looked at her left hand. The knuckles were white. The nails were short. Clean. But they felt wrong. They felt like...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 7 Visualizações 0 Anterior