Monday, 8 August 2016

The Dead London Chronicles

Over at The Dead London Chronicles, our free Gothic tale continues…

"It would hardly be proper for me to carry you--" even as he spoke the leathery sound of beating wings filled the air. A moment later Faulkner had slung Alice over his shoulder and was running along the corridor, telling her politely, "I apologise, Miss Tyhurst, it won't be for long!"

What was chasing them he couldn't see; instead it was engulfed in darkness, deep black clouds swirling around something, the shadows stretching before it. 

Over at Dead London Chronicles, all hell is literally breaking loose…

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