The Distant Summer
The mud of the backyard had turned to a thick, sucking paste under the weight of the recent rains, mirroring the viscous dread that had pooled in Elias Thorne’s chest for the last seventy-two hours. He stood on the warped porch of the house where he had been born, his fingers white-knuckled around a rusted iron key, the metal biting into his palm as if trying to draw blood to seal the pact he...
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