The Distant Legend
December 1st. The house is bleeding again. I found it at the base of the cellar wall, a thin, dark line seeping through the mortar. I wiped it with a rag, but the stain returned, black and viscous. I told Clara it was old plumbing, a pipe that had corroded over the decades. She looked at me with that tired, hollow expression and said, "The house is tired, Elias. It is tired of holding you." I...
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