The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-25 17:52:53 -

Act I "You’re bleeding again, Ray. Stop it." I looked down at my hand. The skin had gone grey, brittle as the backing of a matchbox. It flaked off in small, dry curls, revealing the raw, wet meat beneath. I was twelve years old, and I had been dreaming of my mother’s hands for three months. In the dream, they did not burn; they simply ceased to be flesh, turning into ash that smelled of old...

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