The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 00:29:11 -

The dream was always the same. It began in the grey, wet silence of a bedroom that smelled of damp wool and old paper. Marcus stood in the center of the room, his hands trembling not from cold, but from a vibration that seemed to emanate from the floorboards themselves. On the bed lay a single object, a leather belt, wide and heavy, its brass buckle catching the faint light of a window that...

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