The Faded Photograph
The gate was barred. Thomas stood before it. Rain slicked his uniform. It was dark. Who is there? A voice from within. Low. Rough. Thomas. The voice paused. Thomas? Yes. Silence. Then the sound of a latch. The gate creaked. He stepped inside. The courtyard was wet. Puddles reflected the moon. He walked toward the tower. His boots made no sound. He knew the way. He had memorized it. The door to...
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