The Distant Nightmare
The first thing you notice is not the smell of the damp earth, nor the biting chill that settles into the marrow of your bones, but the silence that hangs in the air, a heavy, tangible thing that presses against your eardrums like deep water. You stand at the edge of the trench, your boots caked in the red clay of the valley, looking down into the pit where the roots of the old oak tree have...
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