The Faded Road
The bell tower of St. Jude’s was not merely a ruin. It was a wound in the sky. I have spent thirty years in this valley. I have watched the seasons turn the oak leaves from green to gold to rot. I have buried friends and seen children grow into strangers. But I have never seen the tower like I saw it that morning. It stood there, broken at the neck. The upper stones had fallen away in a silent,...
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