The Pale Path

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2026-08-17 15:04:41 -

The Pale Path

The bell tower of St. Jude’s had stood for three centuries, its stone face weathered by the same relentless winds that stripped the bare branches of the oak trees in the village square. I remember the sound of it not as a chime, but as a pulse, a deep, resonant throb that seemed to rise from the earth itself. For forty years, I was the keeper of that sound, a man of few words and heavy hands,...

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