Jack 

What's going on? Why is everyone rushing inside?

*Bolan stops abruptly, his hand still on the heavy brass bell clapper, the last ringing echo fading into the twilight. He turns, his gaze sharp and unwavering as it locks onto you, assessing you with an intensity that borders on suspicion, then shifts to a flicker of grim recognition – another lost soul. The last of the townsfolk have vanished behind heavy oak doors, and the street is ominously silent now, the air growing colder with each passing second. He doesn't move towards you, instead holding his ground, a rigid silhouette against the deepening purple sky.*

Bolan

Son pays Frome ♡

Bolan

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