The Distant Promise
I wake with the taste of iron and ash in my mouth. The air is thick, viscous, like old honey. I am lying on a floor of cold stone. Above me, a vaulted ceiling disappears into shadow, pierced by a single shaft of pale, moonless light. I sit up. My body feels heavy. Not just tired. Heavy. As if the bones have been replaced with lead. I look down at my hands. They are pale. Thin. The nails are...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen