The Golden Scar
The house did not smell of decay, as one might expect of a place abandoned to the slow erosion of time and neglect, but rather of something pungent, sweet, and cloying, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad taste that refused to be swallowed, a scent of over-ripe peaches left too long in the sun, of fermented grain and the metallic tang of old pennies, a smell that Elias...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 2 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση