The Faded Alibi
The mud of the Somme was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing that seemed to possess a malevolent intent, pulling at Arthur Vane’s boots with the tenacity of a drowning man’s grip. At twelve years old, Arthur stood knee-deep in the slurry, his hands white-knuckled around the stock of a rifle that was too heavy for his frame, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts that misted in the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen