The Pale Shadows
The old clock tower in Harrowgate had not ticked in a decade, its face a blank, grey slate against the perpetually overcast sky, but I remembered the time it kept, and I remembered the silence that followed, a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. I was not there to repair it, nor was I there to mourn the town’s decline into a ghost of its former...
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