The Distant Promise
The fog was thick. It tasted of iron and old blood. Silas stood in the center of the room. The room was not a room. It was a throat. The walls were wet. They pulsed. He held the lantern. The lantern was a fist. The glass was a knuckle. The flame was a scream trapped inside. Silas was a man of duty. A policeman. A keeper of the peace. But the peace was broken. The peace was a corpse in the...
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