The Wistful Letter
The candle flame in the scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude did not flicker; it stretched, elongating into a thin, trembling line that pointed directly at the parchment where twelve-year-old Thomas Bradshaw was working, his quill scratching a rhythm that had become less like writing and more like scratching against his own skin. Thomas wanted to finish the psalter, a desire so deep it felt...
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