The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-18 10:42:58 -

The iron gate stood open. It was always open, though it should have been shut. The wind did not blow through the corridors of St. Jude’s, yet the air tasted of ozone and wet slate. I stood at the end of the long hallway, my boots polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the dim, yellow light of the gas lamps. The floor was cold. It was always cold. My brother, Thomas, sat in the corner of the...

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