They Smell Like Ashes

Photo by Cullan Smith on Unsplash

Ashes. Ashes. Ashes.

Nobody knows a damn thing, anymore. All the rules have changed.

The door is open. I saw it. Down in the church basement with the choir singing overhead.

The door’s open now and can’t be closed. Parsons Street. The dead church with holes in its windows and bones in its clothes.

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I’m not in the Matrix. I AM the Matrix. New story “The Archon Hunter” on sale at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B097553LTY/

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