MURMURS is a Fortnightly Periodical of Writings by JMF Casey

Issue 4 - Preface

At length the renovation of the derelict farm began. For weeks the agent of an unknown party wandered the grounds with a crew of specialists. examining every corner with fastidious care. Then the workmen came, dressed in dark overalls and wielding only hand tools; the enterprise entirely lacking in the high vis and heavy plant of the typical modern site. The gnarly workers themselves also seemed anachronistic, baring the rough features and dingy garments of Bruegel peasants.

The progress of the build was unhampered by the archaic methods, as soon it could be seen that what was rising from the crumbling ruins was a magnificent palace. The framework of a large dome manifested above the moor, intricate iron work wove a boundary, several turrets slowly launched into the low cloud.

Still the inner sanctum of the farmhouse cellar was left untouched. It was from there below the floorboards that the murmurs came; a portable microphone above capturing every tortured word.

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Dredger's Bloody Seedling