Sample V-01: The Shattered Mirror of Fog
(Victorian Melancholy) The fog did not merely drift through the streets of East End; it breathed. It was a thick, jaundiced soup that swallowed the gaslamps and muffled the screams of the dying. In a tenement that leaned like a drunkard against its neighbors, Adrian lived in a room that smelled of damp wool and the metallic tang of his mother's blood. She lay on a cot of rotting straw, her...
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