The Golden Ritual
The sign was fresh. White paint on dark wood, letters jagged like broken teeth. "Property of the Crown," it read. "Enter at your peril." Tommy spat a wad of red phlegm into the dirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of a hand that shook. His fingers were black with grease and old blood. "It’s just a sign, lad," said Elias. His voice was gravel in a tin cup. "Don’t let a piece of wood scare you....
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare