The Pale Fracture
You are walking. The ground is soft. It is not dirt. It is ash. White ash. It covers the road. It covers the fields. It covers the trees. You do not look up. You look down. Your boots are heavy. They sink. You pull them out. You walk. The air is cold. It tastes like metal. You breathe. In. Out. Your lungs burn. You keep walking. You are not alone. You hear footsteps. Behind you. You stop. You...
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