The Wistful Show
The fire did not begin with a spark but with a scream, a high, thin shriek that tore through the velvet silence of the Grand Hall and shattered the illusion of safety that had held the assembly together for three nights. Margaret Holloway stood frozen in the center of the aisle, her fingers still curled around the handle of her walking stick, her eyes wide and unblinking as the flames licked up...
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