The Faded Photograph
The bell tower of St. Jude’s had not rung in three years, not since the Bishop’s decree locked its mechanism in silence. It stood as a grey finger pointing at a sky that seemed to press down on the village of Oakhaven, heavy with the weight of unspoken things. Elias Thorne stood in the square, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of a coat that had seen better decades. He was the village’s...
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