Sample V-01: The Azure Shroud
(Victorian Melancholy) The fog did not merely descend upon the marshes of Essex; it claimed them. It was a thick, suffocating velvet that erased the horizon and turned the skeletal remains of the willow trees into ghostly sentinels. I remember the last time I felt the warmth of the sun, though it felt like a lifetime ago, or perhaps just a fleeting dream of a boy who no longer existed. My home...
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