The Prospect From Eston

There was nothing underneath, he told himself – couldn’t be. It was his reason, his dumb, bull-headed reason, that kept him calm. Yet while he crouched there, motionless, watching the approaching darkness beneath those waters, he felt his flesh grow wet with perspiration and his knees incline towards buckling with a cowardice that he had never felt before – never in city alley, country road, the quiet of solitude or the loneliness of a crowd…Read more