The Faded Paradox
The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s Asylum for the Indigent did not ring to mark the hour, but to mark the hunger. It was a deep, resonant thud that vibrated in the teeth of the inmates, a sound that tasted of iron and cold stone. Margaret Holloway stood in the center of the infirmary, her apron stained with the grey dust of the walls, watching the door swing open. The air that rushed in was...
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