The Faded Ruin
The carriage wheels ground against the iron sleepers with a rhythmic, grinding screech that seemed to vibrate up through the soles of Arthur Penhaligon’s shoes, a mechanical thrum that resonated in the hollow cavity of his chest where his heart had once beaten with the regularity of a pocket watch. He sat rigid in the corner of the compartment, his coat buttoned to the throat despite the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews