The Distant Ghost

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 23:58:41 -

The Distant Ghost

The brass compass in my hand was cold, colder than the November air that seeped through the thin wool of my coat, and its needle, a slender sliver of polished steel, did not point north but swung with violent, erratic precision toward the corner of the room where the shadows pooled deepest. I am Margaret Ashworth, and I am forty years old, a widow in a city that breathes coal smoke and exhales...

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