The Pale Circus
The rain hit the tin roof like static. It was a cold, gray sound. I knew it by heart. I had lived under this roof for thirty years. My name is Elias Thorne. Or it was. Now I am just a thing of shadow and smoke. A ghost in a machine. A beast in a cage. The cage is the house. The house is a box. The box is in a field. The field is in a town that does not exist on any map. People drive past. They...
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