The Faded Attic

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2026-08-19 21:04:27 -

The Faded Attic

The axe bit into the oak. It was a clean strike. No hesitation. Julian stood in the center of the barn, the handle slick with sweat, his knuckles white. The wood groaned. It did not break. Outside, the rain hammered against the stone walls like a thousand impatient fingers. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp straw and old fear. Julian swung again. The axe caught the grain. A shard...

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