The Distant Machine
The letter was found in the pocket of a dead man. It was dated three years prior to his death. The ink had faded to a bruised purple. The paper was brittle. It smelled of wet stone and old blood. Elias Thorne sat in the cell. The walls were damp. They wept. The stone was cold. It bit into his bones. He wore a shirt of rough linen. The collar chafed his neck. He did not move. He did not blink....
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