The Distant Machine
The bell has stopped. You hear the silence where it used to be. It is a heavy, wet silence. It sits on the floor of the chapel like a dead dog. You stand by the altar. Your hand is still shaking. You look at your fingers. They are red. Not with blood. With dust. Fine, grey dust from the bronze. The great bell is gone. It is in three pieces now. The crackle is in your ears. The shatter is in...
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