The Distant Ghost
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a slick, black mirror that reflected the gray, bruised sky above. I stood at the edge of the village square, my hands deep in the pockets of my wool coat, watching the crowd thin out. It was a departure of sorts, not of people, but of certainty. The town had been holding its breath since the incident at the mill,...
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