The rain fell in the city, the scream sounded. “Murder, Police Murder!” crowds shuffled, an impenetrable wall of the disinterested. The blood flowed and the rain fell.
The old man sits at his desk, frowning in concentration. The candlelight throws shadows into into his wrinkled skin, giving him a statuesque appearance. At last, he sighs, relaxes his face, and dips his pen into the inkwell. For better or worse it is a story that should be told. In 1850 I was newly… Continue reading The Lady and the Asp