The Distant Promise
"The mold is in the walls again, Elias." Dr. Aris stood in the doorway of the nursery, his tweed jacket damp with the November chill, his eyes fixed not on the boy but on the corner where the plaster met the ceiling. The light from the unlit window was a thin, grey blade, cutting across the room and illuminating the black, velvety tendrils that had crept over the night, spreading across the...
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