The Wistful Voyage
The bell in the steeple of St. Jude’s did not ring with the clear, resonant clarity it had possessed for a century; instead, it let out a low, groaning thud, a sound like a heavy bone breaking under the weight of too many years, and the vibration traveled through the flagstones, up through the soles of Eleanor’s shoes, and settled in the marrow of her knees. She stood in the center of the nave,...
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