The Pale Banner
The dream is green and wet. You are in the field. The grass is tall. It sways. Not in wind. In breath. You are a boy. You are a soldier. You are a man. The timeline is broken. The field is endless. Something moves in the stalks. It is not a deer. It is not a fox. It is a shape. Pale. Thin. Like a bone stripped of meat. You know what it is. You have always known. It is the thing that watches. It...
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