The Pale Shadows
The rain had been falling on the slate roof of the Whitmore estate for three days without pause, a rhythmic, percussive drumming that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias’s bones, a constant, low-frequency hum that drowned out the silence of the house and the silence of his own mind, which had been growing louder, more insistent, and more terrifyingly clear since he had decided to finally...
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