The Faded Attic
The mud of the Somme did not merely coat the skin; it invaded it, settling into the pores and the creases of the knuckles, a heavy, anaerobic sediment that smelled of iron and decay. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood knee-deep in the slurry, the weight of his rifle digging into his shoulder, the world reduced to a gray, churning expanse where the sky and the earth had lost all distinct borders. He...
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