The Distant Temple
The bell does not ring. It shakes. You hold the rope. Your knuckles are white. The rope burns your palms. It is the only thing in the world that is real. The air is cold. It tastes of iron. You are in the tower. You are alone. Below you, the city sleeps. Or it pretends to. The lights are out. The streets are empty. But you hear them. You hear the boots. You hear the breath. They are coming....
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