The Golden Song
March 4, 1912. The house is screaming. I know this sounds mad, but the walls are vibrating. It is a low hum, deep in the chest, tasting of copper and old blood. I am Thomas Ashworth, thirty-two years old, a clerk at the Sterling Textile Mill. I want to sell this place. I need the money to pay off my father’s debt, the one that has eaten my life for ten years. But the house will not let me. It...
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