The Pale Door
The coal dust in Shaft 4 did not just coat the skin; it settled into the pores, a grey silt that turned the breath to taste of iron and rot. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and I have spent the last decade crawling through the guts of this Yorkshire mine, measuring the give of timber and the hiss of gas, all to secure a pension that would allow me to die in a bed rather than a ditch....
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