
“The next day brings snow. The black trees all around are edged each one in flakes, a pale white line on every limb. Jagged serrations of ice cover the road, hard as iron. When we move out of the ravine on the straight again, we can see that the manor house has grown slightly closer. The two small guardhouses of the manor stand between the road and the valley of a river.
If only we could reach the manor house, we might be safe. But it is too far away, a mirage on that distant hill.”
— from the novel Sinful Folk
PHOTO: There ain’t no color in autumn | by Pirotek
Published on December 19, 2014 10:00