The Faded Portrait
The heavy iron gate of the manor creaked open, not with a shriek of metal on metal, but with a low, mournful groan that seemed to rise from the very bones of the earth, a sound so profound and resonant that it vibrated in my teeth and settled into the marrow of my bones, a physical manifestation of the weight that had been pressing down on my chest for the last seven years, a weight that tasted...
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