The Pale Echo
The mud was black and sucking, a living thing that tried to pull me down into the earth, but I held my ground. The rain fell in sheets, cold enough to sting the skin, blurring the world into a grey smear of stone and rot. I was not fighting a man. I was fighting the silence that had settled over the estate, a silence so heavy it had a weight, a texture, like wet wool draped over the shoulders...
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