The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 11:29:11 -

The mud sucked at my boots. It was thick. It was black. It smelled of iron and rot. I held the rifle tight. My knuckles were white. The sound was a constant roar. It was not a sound. It was a pressure. It pushed against my eardrums. It pushed against my mind. I was Sergeant Elias Thorne. I wore the grey uniform. It was stained. The stain was deep. It would not wash out. I knew that. I had seen...

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