The Distant Ghost
The sky did not break; it dissolved. One moment, the grey slate of the English countryside stretched flat and silent. The next, the horizon folded inward. The grass beneath Thomas Bradshaw’s boots turned to ash, then to light. He stood in a field that was no longer a field. It was a void of white static, humming with a frequency that rattled his teeth. He had been a soldier. He had been a...
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