The Faded Paradox
The silver cufflinks were cold. They had been cold since I took them from the corpse of Arthur Penhaligon, and they grew colder as the hours passed, a physical weight that seemed to drain the heat from my wrists. I am Elias Thorne, an archivist of minor importance in the municipal records office, and I am writing this to prove that the "Ghost of St. Jude" is a fabrication, a trick of light and...
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