The Wistful Silence
You stand in the kitchen. The air is thick. It smells of wet earth and rot. You are the investigator. You are the judge. You are the jury. But you are also the prisoner. The house is old. The beams groan. The walls sweat. You hold the bowl. It is clay. It is cold. Inside is a paste. It is brown. It is thick. It moves slowly. It is not food. Not yet. It is a secret. It is a curse. It is the...
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