The Kneeler of Blackwood
The moor stretched endlessly under a sky the color of wet ash. Arthur Graves stood at the edge of the graveyard and watched the widow arrive. He had been watching her for three days. He watched everything from the graveyard. It was what he did. He kept the graveyard. He tended the dead. He watched the living from a distance, because the living made his knees buckle. He knew this about himself....
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