The Distant Promise

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2026-08-19 23:22:34 -

The gate is locked, and the key is in my mouth, cold as a fish’s eye. You know this. You have always known this. You stand before the iron bars of the crypt, the wind tearing at your wool coat, the rain slicking your hair to your skull in ragged strips. It is the year of the red leaf, or perhaps the year of the ash, time has become a blurred smear in this place where the sun forgets to rise....

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