The Golden Downtown
The dream was not a dream. It was a heavy, wet blanket of memory that refused to dry. Elias Vane woke with the taste of copper in his mouth and the sound of his own breathing, a ragged, wet rattle, filling the small, stone-walled room. He was a man of letters, a scholar of dead languages, yet he found himself unable to recall a single word of Latin or Greek. Instead, his mind was cluttered with...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima