The Faded Alibi
You dream of the river. It is not the water you remember from childhood, clear and cold over limestone. This river is a vein of black tar, thick and sluggish, pulsing with a light that comes from within. It does not flow; it breathes. In the dream, you are standing on the bank, but you are not you. You are a stain. A dark, spreading smear on the skin of the world. You try to wash your hands,...
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