The Faded Shield
The humming has been counting out the hours for three days now, a low, metallic thrum that vibrates in the fillings of my teeth and rattles the loose hinge of the window in my room. I have measured the silence between the pulses, counting to forty-seven each time, and I know that the source is not in the walls, nor in the pipes, but out in the Ashen Waste where the land bends and shifts like...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima