The Faded Masquerade
The sky splits. It is not a metaphor. The firmament tears open above the Scottish Highlands, revealing a void that hums with the frequency of forgotten names. You stand on the ridge, your coat flapping like a surrender flag. Your wife is gone. Not dead. Gone. Taken by the rupture in the air, her scream swallowed by the static. You are alone. You are the scholar. You are the fool. You walk. The...
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