INCUNABULI

A Shield Against Night

Mist caressed the moors. It stroked the bruise-black heather, set gentle dewdrops on countless twisted stems. It kissed the still faces of stagnant pools, concealed shallow, submerged skulls. It stroked every dip and dell, spilled wet fingers into the shadowed crevasses¬†of glacial monoliths. It groped, invasive, into fast trenches dug by human hands. "Shite's cold," […]

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