The Distant Nightmare
The bell did not ring; it screamed. It was a sound like tearing metal, a shriek that tore through the velvet silence of the shop and shattered the delicate clockwork on your workbench. You did not look up. You kept your hands on the mainspring of the pocket watch, your fingers steady, your breath shallow. You were a craftsman, and craftsmen do not flinch at the world’s noise; they simply...
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