The Wistful Mirror

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 15:07:07 -

The dream had teeth. They were made of iron filings and old blood. Marcus lay on the cold tile floor of the locker room, the linoleum peeling in the corners like dead skin. He woke with a gasp. The air tasted of chlorine and rust. He sat up. His hands were shaking. Not from fear. From hunger. A deep, hollow kind. The kind that eats the soul before it eats the body. The facility was a gray box...

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