The Distant Machine
The letter is addressed to you, but the handwriting is not yours. It is the cramped, jagged scrawl of Silas Vane, the man who broke your leg in the valley and now claims to be the only one who understands the machine. You hold the envelope in your trembling hands, the paper damp with the rain that has been falling for three days, a relentless grey curtain that blurs the edge of the road and the...
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