The Distant Joke

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2026-08-21 18:24:52 -

The Distant Joke

The fog sat heavy on the moors of Whitby, a gray wool pulled tight over the nose of the world. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the long hall of the manor, the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light that pierced the gloom. He was alone. The house was empty, yet it felt crowded with the weight of what he had done. He held a glass of sherry in his hand, the liquid trembling slightly,...

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