The Faded Sutra
The bell tower of Saint Jude’s did not ring so much as it shuddered, a deep, bone-rattling tremor that traveled up through the cobblestones and into the soles of my boots. I stood at the base, looking up at the spire, which was not merely a structure of stone and mortar but the extension of my own spine. For forty years, I had been the bell-ringer, and in that role, I had become the bell...
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