The Distant Affair
The bell tower in St. Jude’s had a new face. It was not a clock, not a bell, but a mouth. A stone mouth, carved with a terrifying, silent scream, staring out over the slate roofs of the valley. It was there when I arrived. It had been there for ten years. I had built it. Or rather, I had paid for it to be built, brick by stone, under the guise of a restoration. The town council had approved the...
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