The Distant Crown
"Stop it." The voice was thin. It cracked like dry ice. "Make it stop, Thomas." The boy did not look up. His fingers were deep in the mortar. The dust was white. It coated his skin. It coated his hair. It coated his eyes. He could not blink. If he blinked, the world would smear. The house breathed. It was a large thing. Stone and brick. It stood on the hill. It watched the valley. It watched...
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