
The Iron Hand of Clara Vale
Clara Vale’s fingers trembled as she adjusted the last gear on the contraption, the scent of oil and scorched metal thick in the air. The workshop hummed with the low groan of steam valves, a sound she’d come to know…
Clara Vale’s fingers trembled as she adjusted the last gear on the contraption, the scent of oil and scorched metal thick in the air. The workshop hummed with the low groan of steam valves, a sound she’d come to know…
The year was 1890, and as dawn broke over the Appalachian mountains, the silhouette of trains stretching towards distant horizons painted an imposing figure across the valley. Smokestacks released puffs that swirled gracefully into wisps before vanishing into blue infinity.…