The Distant Ghost
"Leave it," said the man in the grey coat. His voice was thin, stretched over the howling wind like a wire about to snap. "Leave it, Thomas. You cannot carry the past out of this tunnel." Thomas Bradshaw did not leave it. He tightened his grip on the rusted iron bar, his knuckles white against the cold metal. The bar was heavy, a relic of the old railway works, jagged and sharp. It was the only...
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