The Distant Nightmare

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2026-08-21 09:50:43 -

"The flour is wrong. It is too fine. It lacks the grit that binds the soul to the dough." I stared at the pile of white dust on the counter. It looked like snow, but it had the dead, lifeless quality of ash. My hands trembled as I reached for the sieve, the metal ring cold against my palm. In the old days, in the village of Oakhaven before the fires, the flour was stone-ground. It had weight....

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