The Wistful Dinner
The mist had not merely settled upon the village of Oakhaven; it had seeped into the very marrow of the stone walls and the damp earth beneath my boots, transforming the familiar world into a grey, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with a slow, alien rhythm, and I stood there in the hollow behind the old mill, my hands trembling not from the biting cold but from a terror so profound and...
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