The Pale Garden
The train did not arrive at the station in Harrowgate, nor did it announce its presence with the shriek of steam or the rhythmic thud of wheels on iron, but rather it seemed to materialize from the mist that clung to the valley floor like a shroud, a long, grey serpent uncoiling itself onto the tracks with a silence that was more terrifying than any noise could have been. Elias Thorne stood on...
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