The Faded Alibi
The mud at the Somme was not just dirt; it was a living thing that chewed at your boots and tried to swallow you whole. You ran with the pocket watch in your left hand, its face cracked, the second hand trembling as it ticked backward against the grain of time. You were Elias Thorne, a clockmaker from Leeds who had never intended to be a soldier, let alone a survivor of the inferno that was...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews