The Distant Journey
The bell tower of St. Jude’s did not ring on the morning I broke. It shattered. A sound like the world splitting its own ribs, a jagged shriek of metal tearing away from stone, echoed through the valley and into the sleeping bodies of every soul in Oakhaven. I was scrubbing the altar cloth, the wool rough against my palms, when the vibration stopped my hands. The dust in the air froze,...
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