The Wistful Crossroads
The perimeter fence of the Blackwood Correctional Facility did not merely enclose the yard; it severed it from the world, a jagged line of barbed wire that hummed with a low, electric frequency audible only to those who had slept too long against its cold shadow. Sergeant Arthur Penhaligon stood at the observation post, his uniform pressed to a severity that belied the fraying edges of his...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews