The Faded Attic
The rain did not fall; it hung. It was a heavy, grey curtain that stretched from the black sky to the muddy earth. Thomas walked. His boots sank. They did not make a sound. The mud simply swallowed the leather. He pulled his collar up. The wind was cold. It cut. It was not a natural wind. It smelled of ozone and old iron. He was not entirely human. He had known this since he was seven years...
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