The Wistful Incense
The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s did not ring to mark the hour, but to mark the breaking of the sky, a dull, bruised sound that rolled across the cobblestones of the market square and into the marrow of the bones of everyone who dared to look up from their ledgers and their looms, for the smoke was not merely grey but a living, breathing thing that crawled down from the parapets of the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews