The Distant Promise
The porridge was cold. Elias woke to the smell of burnt sugar. It clung to his tongue. Thick. Sweet. Rotting. He sat up. The bed frame groaned. Outside, the fog lay heavy on the town of Blackwood. It swallowed the rooftops. It swallowed the spires. It swallowed the world. Only the window remained. A square of grey light. He looked at his hands. They shook. The tremor was constant. A vibration...
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