The Distant Nightmare
The fire started in the attic of the Blackwood Manor, a sprawling, decaying estate that clung to the side of the moor like a barnacle to a ship’s hull, and by the time the smoke had turned the sky into a bruised purple, the man who had lived there for forty years was already standing in the courtyard, watching his own home dissolve into ash and memory. His name was Arthur, and he was a clerk, a...
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