The Faded Alibi
The mud was cold. It soaked through my boots, a heavy, grey weight that seemed to anchor my limbs to the earth. I was running. Or perhaps I was being dragged. The distinction had blurred hours ago. The forest was a wall of black pine and white ash. The air tasted of iron and pine resin. My left hand bled. I looked at it. The skin was peeled back, raw and pink, weeping clear fluid that mixed...
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