The Faded Alibi
The ink in your pen trembles, a tiny, rhythmic shiver that mirrors the fragility of the bone beneath your skin. It is November, 1893, and the rain in Oakhaven has a metallic taste, seeping through the gaps in the window frames of your cramped attic room, chilling the draft you have just begun to write. You are Dr. Elias Thorne, forty years old, and you are dying, though not in the way the town...
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