The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-18 16:13:20 -

The fever had a taste of copper and wet ash, and I was fighting it with a shovel that had broken in half three days ago. I stood in the middle of the cornfield, which was not a cornfield anymore but a dense, breathing forest of green stalks that reached up to my chin and whispered against my skin like the fingers of dead relatives. The sky above was the color of a bruise, purple and yellow, and...

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