The Faded Dust
The iron gate did not creak when it opened, nor did the wind shift to announce your arrival, yet the silence that followed was heavy enough to press against your eardrums, a physical weight that settled into the marrow of your bones. You stood at the threshold of the St. Jude’s Asylum for the Correction of Unnatural Minds, a sprawling Victorian edifice of gray stone that seemed to grow out of...
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