The Distant Temple
The ironworks of St. Jude’s Hollow had a heart of soot and a soul of steam. It was a place where the air tasted of rust and wet ash, where the sky above the chimneys was perpetually bruised purple by the smoke that rolled down upon the slate roofs. In the town below, life moved to the rhythmic, grinding pulse of the machines, a ceaseless mechanical heartbeat that had long since replaced the...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima