The Last Ember of Whitby
Thomas Blackwood stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the last fishing boat disappear into the Yorkshire fog. He had been cast out to the edge of the world, to a place where the sea met the sky in a seam of grey that never opened. The island was small, no bigger than a man's hand. A black hole in the hillside gaped like a blind eye. Around it, coal dust lay thick as snow. Thomas knew what...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 6 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση