The Distant Garden

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2026-08-18 15:55:46 -

The ink was black. Not just dark, but a void that swallowed the light from the single gas lamp in the corner. Elias stood before the desk. His hands trembled. He held the pen. The tip was sharp. It cut the air. Outside, the rain hammered the glass. The city of Bristol slept under a blanket of fog and soot. The year was 1893. The factories belched smoke into the grey sky. Elias was a printer. A...

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