The Faded Road
The floorboards groan. You feel it in your teeth. The air is thick with dust. It hangs in the shafts of light. You are in the high tower. The stone is cold. It bites into your back. You look down. Your hands are trembling. They are red. Not with paint. With blood. The blood is yours. Or perhaps it is not. It is hard to tell. The light is dim here. The shadows are long. They stretch across the...
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