The Pale Tale
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, weeping veil that turned the world outside the heavy oak windows of the manor into a blurred, grey smear of dissolving reality, and I sat in the high-backed leather chair, my hands resting on my knees, feeling the weight of the silence that pressed against my eardrums like the deep sea, watching the single candle on the desk flicker with a...
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