The Faded Dust

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2026-08-19 22:55:06 -

The Faded Dust

The dream was always the same. It started with the sound of chalk dust settling on a blackboard, a soft, grey snowfall that coated the floorboards of the schoolroom. Thomas stood at the front, his uniform buttoned to the chin, holding a piece of chalk in his right hand. The chalk was not white. It was the color of dried blood, and it was crumbling in his grip. He looked down at his hand and saw...

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