The Distant Wound
The sky broke open. Not with rain. With light. A white, screaming light that turned the mud of the valley to glass. I woke in the ash. My hands were buried in the gray dust up to the elbows. I pulled them free. My fingers were stained black. Like soot. Like old blood. I stood. My legs shook. The world was gone. The trees were gone. The fences were gone. The houses were gone. Just the ash. And...
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