The Faded Root
The alarm clock on the nightstand did not tick. It sat there, a grey plastic block, silent and heavy, like a stone dropped into a deep well. You watched the digital numbers change from 4:01 to 4:02, and then to 4:03, but the sound of the passage of time was absent. In its place was a pressure in your ears, a low, humming vibration that seemed to come from the walls themselves. You lived in the...
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