The Pale Tale
The fever took you first, and then the world took the fever. You lay in the narrow bed of the stone clinic, the air thick with the smell of boiled lye and damp wool, while the rain hammered against the single barred window like a crowd demanding entry. Your hands, once steady enough to transcribe the ancient manuscripts by candlelight, now trembled violently, the tendons standing out like dry...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews