The Faded Portrait
The mirror in the attic of the Whitmore manor did not reflect the room as it was, but as the boy, Julian, had feared it would, which was to say, it reflected the room as it had been before the silence took hold, before the dust settled into a fine, gray powder that coated the lungs of the house itself, a place where time did not march forward but pooled in stagnant, silver eddies, waiting for a...
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