The Faded Frequency
The rain hits the glass. It is cold. You are wet. The water is in your hair. It is in your throat. You taste copper. You taste old blood. You are standing in the hallway of the Grey House. The walls are peeling. The paint is grey. The floor is wood. It creaks. You hear it. You feel it in your bones. You are the new officer. You are here to clear the room. The order was simple. Secure the site....
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