The Faded Masquerade
He woke with the taste of iron in his mouth. The dream was gone. But the weight remained. Silas Vane sat up. The room was dark. The coal fire had died. Ashes lay in the grate. Cold. Gray. Lifeless. He was a man of law. Of order. He wore the badge. The star. It sat on his desk. Shining. Bright. False. He looked at it. It looked back. It knew. It always knew. Silas was not a hero. He was a tool....
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen