The Distant Joke
Arthur. The name was spoken by the wind, or perhaps by the creaking of the floorboards in the library, but Arthur Vane heard it as a summons. He stood before the fireplace, the fire long dead, the ash cold and gray as the wallpaper peeling from the damp walls. Outside, the valley of Harrow Creek lay under a sky the color of bruised iron, the late afternoon light slanting low through the dusty...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews