The Pale Dance
The door locked. It was a heavy sound. The iron bolt slid home. Miles stood in the hall. He held his rifle. The wood was cold. It was oak. It was old. It was the only thing left. The house was big. Too big. The air was thin. The light was grey. It came through the glass. It cut the dust. The dust moved slow. He looked at the wall. There was a line. It was thin. It was black. It went from the...
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