THE PALE WITNESS
Act I: The Seeing The fog came in thick on Tuesday, the kind of fog that turns Blackpool's lighthouse beam into a pale thumbprint against a sky the colour of wet slate. Edmund Harthwaite stood at the lantern room's window and watched the working quarter below wake through the mist. He knew three of those workers would be dead by Friday. He did not know which three. He only knew, with the...
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