The Distant Journey
The clock in the municipal archive did not tick. It hummed, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate in the fillings of my teeth, a sound that had become the baseline of my existence in the city of Oakhaven. Oakhaven was not a modern place, despite the glass towers that pierced the smog; it was a city built on a legend, a myth so old it had fossilized into stone and statute. We did not live...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση