The Faded River
The air in the boiler room tasted of rust and ozone. You stand before the great iron lung of the mill, the pressure gauges trembling like heartbeats under the weight of the invisible tide. It is 1924, and the town of Oakhaven is holding its breath. The fog outside the single, grimy window is not weather. It is a living thing, pressing its cold face against the glass, whispering names you have...
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