The Wistful Mountain
The silence in the Whitmore estate was not the absence of sound, but a heavy, suffocating presence that pressed against the eardrums like deep water, a silence that had calcified over decades into a substance thicker than air and more solid than stone, filling the high-ceilinged hallways and the dust-moted parlors with a weight that made the very air difficult to breathe, and it was into this...
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