My feet now teeter along the edge of a precariously sharp cliff. Far off in the distance is a menacing storm that’s as purple as an October plum. Every few seconds, electricity lights it up like a beating heart. It hangs menacingly over a sprawling town made of glass. Above it all is a burning red sky.
The memories are starting to fly by without rhyme or reason, like papers scattered on the wind. Time is jumping randomly across a lifetime that spanned hundreds of years. Some of the most vivid are recent ones from his life in the cave. And yes, hunting after a wounded elk is just as disgusting as you would imagine. The images of fresh kills have my monster salivating enthusiastically. I’m used to his voice in my head, but now there&rsqu...
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