The Distant Garden
The tin cup shattered on the wet gravel. I watched the shards scatter. Blue glints. Small stars. Dead. My name is Elias Thorne. I was a guard. Now I am a man holding nothing. The rain fell. Cold. It soaked my wool coat. The weight of it pressed against my chest. I felt the dampness in my bones. A slow, creeping chill. We had walked for three days. No food. Only the sky. Grey. Endless. Arthur...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews