The Distant Promise
The rain had not stopped in three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the manor, a relentless, hollow rhythm that echoed in the hollows of Thomas Bradshaw’s chest. He stood before the mirror in his study, a tall, gaunt figure in a disheveled suit. The glass was fogged with the heat of the room, but he could still see the reflection. It looked back at him with eyes that were not his own....
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews