The Distant Journey

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2026-08-21 14:54:56 -

The road was not a path. It was a wound. I walked it. My boots were heavy. The mud sucked at my heels. It pulled. It wanted to keep me. I looked down. The earth was black and slick. It smelled of rain and rot. I did not care. I had to reach the end. The sky was low. It pressed against the pines. The trees stood like sentinels. They were silent. They watched. I felt their eyes. They were cold....

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