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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Dec, 2020
Submitted to Contest #70
"How dare they."The voice dragged out, drowning itself in the orchestra of the bush-crickets, which was pouring into the damp musty room through the cast-iron bars, high on the wall, hastily built with stone bricks, mossy or otherwise. He laid there. There on the cobblestone, in a puddle of his own blood and vomit, recollecting his memories. The ones which had become foggy after 3 days of constant whiplashes and starvation. His head whirred, drunk with fatigue as it constantly lingered near the edge of abyssal limbo, which he could fall...
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