The Pale Letter
The fog did not merely settle upon Harrowgate; it devoured it. It crept up the cobblestones of King’s Row, swallowing the gaslights one by one, turning the iron lanterns into blind, glowing eyes that saw nothing but their own diminishing light. I stood at the window of my lodgings, watching the street dissolve into a grey void, and felt the weight of the silence pressing against my eardrums...
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