The Silent Estate
(Act I: The Spark) The fog didn't just surround Blackwood Manor; it seemed to breathe with it. Arthur stood by the edge of the garden pond, his boots sinking into the sodden earth of a Tuesday in November. He was a man of forty, though the mirror told him he was sixty. The estate was a skeletal remains of his father's ambition, the mahogany panels peeling like dead skin, the servants long gone....
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