Mar. 21st, 2025

The shrine shifts around you again, and you're crouched with your back to the smooth surface of collapsed stone, a semi-automatic rifle clutched in your hands and a combat knife tucked in your belt. It is still dark, and while the "stars" of flaming debris are no longer falling, the occasional screams and cries of panic in the distance have not relented.

The soldier's story: )

from "Voices"

We don’t forgive being as we are.

[...]

There are those fallen who don’t get up so as not to fall again.

The dream that doesn't feed on dream vanishes.


- Antonio Porchia