The Pale Circus
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed into the earth by the weight of the air, a gray, viscous curtain that hung over the crumbling manor house of the Ashworth estate, a place where the walls wept with dampness and the floorboards groaned under the sheer, crushing gravity of the silence that had taken root there three winters prior, a silence so profound it had become a living thing,...
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