The Pale Fracture
The rain fell on the grey moor like a fine, grey dust, settling into the crevices of the old stone walls that marked the boundary of the world. It was a cold that did not merely bite the skin but settled into the marrow, a dampness that seemed to have no end, a persistent, wet silence that pressed against the eardrums until the boundary between sound and void dissolved completely. Here, in the...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare