The Pale Dance
The morning bell at St. Jude’s Asylum for the Incurable and the Indigent rang not with the sharp, metallic clarity of a warning, but with a dull, throbbing resonance that seemed to vibrate within the marrow of the bones of the men who stood in the grey, stone-paved courtyard, a sound that was less a summons to order and more a physical manifestation of the institution’s heavy, suffocating grip...
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