The Golden Visit
The bell in the tower of St. Jude’s did not ring at dawn as it should have. Instead, it screamed, a jagged, tearing sound that tore through the quiet, grey morning and shattered the glass of the church windows. I was standing on the parish green, my hands still wet from washing my face in the cold stream, when the first shard of glass hit my cheek. It was not a cut, not really, just a prick, a...
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