The Pale Tower
Elias, the wind through the broken shutter said, or perhaps it was just the draft, for the house was leaking its heat into the November night with a steady, sucking hiss. He stood in the center of the living room, his boots caked in the wet mud of the yard, and listened to the silence that followed the gust. It was a heavy silence, the kind that settled in the eardrums after a long day of...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima