The Distant Temple
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the mud of the valley road into a thick, sucking paste that chewed at the tires of our truck until they screamed in protest. We were heading up to the old mill, that derelict ghost of a place that had stood on the edge of the river since before my grandfather was born, and I was driving with my hands white-knuckled...
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