The Pale Dance

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 14:34:29 -

The Pale Dance

The mud was thick. It sucked at my boots with a wet, rhythmic groan. I had been walking for hours. Or perhaps days. Time had lost its shape in the valley. I could not remember my last meal. I could not remember my name. I only knew the weight of the rifle in my hands. It was heavy. It was the only thing that felt real. I am a soldier. I have always been a soldier. I do not know where I...

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