The Golden Song
The rain on the tin roof of the schoolhouse was a relentless drumming, a heartbeat that matched the thud of Mabel’s own pulse. She stood in the center of the classroom, her shoes slick with mud, her hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, terrifying weight of what she held. It was not a book. It was not a lesson plan. It was a silence so dense it had form, a shadow that clung to her...
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