The Distant Promise
The clock in the hall had not ticked for three days. It stood silent against the damp wall, its brass face tarnished by the humidity of the cellar where it had been kept before the move. Elias did not look at it. He looked at the floor. The oak boards were cold. He was a creature of the wood, or so the family had always said. Not a man, but a thing that lived in the grain. His skin was pale,...
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