The Pale Tale
"Stay low, Bertha, the wind is tearing the shingles off." The voice of Old Thomas, the steward, came through the heavy draft that rattled the windowpanes of the counting house, a sound like dry bones knocking together in a sack. Bertha Blount, thirty-two years old and hollowed out by the wasting sickness that had taken the strength from her lungs, stood by the ledger table where the scales of...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews