The Distant Threshold
The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended curtain of grey mist that clung to the high, windowless walls of the St. Jude’s Correctional Facility, a place where time seemed to have lost its linear integrity and pooled into a stagnant, viscous lake in which the inmates and the guards alike were suspended in a state of perpetual, breathless waiting. Inspector Elias Thorne stood in the...
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