The Wistful Letter
You have always believed that the walls of the Blackwood Asylum were built to keep the madness in, but now, standing in the center of the circular atrium with the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of afternoon light that pierces the stained glass, you realize with a cold, clarifying shock that they were built to keep you out, or perhaps, more horrifyingly, to keep you in as a specimen, a...
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