The Faded Sutra
The bell tower of St. Jude’s did not ring. It screamed. The sound tore through the morning fog like a rusted nail pulled from wet wood. It was a jagged, grinding shriek that shattered the stained glass of the sanctuary and sent shards of colored light raining down onto the pews. The parishioners in the nave froze. They did not run. They stood with their hands raised, palms open, as if waiting...
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