The Distant Nightmare
The fire started in the chimney. It was not a spark that escaped the flue, nor a fault in the wiring. It was a slow, hungry thing that began in the soot and ate its way down toward the hearth. By the time the smoke turned black and thick, filling the air with the scent of burning pine, the house was already compromised. Thomas stood in the center of the living room. He did not run. He did not...
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