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I decipher the angst of the world, glyphs sketched on the stalks as I make my way through the cornfield. A green maze that smells like earth, looming tall. Revenant soldiers are haunting hallways as I scrawl, crawl through time and space. The world is windowless. The wind lathered by a storm. The sky above turns gray, the stalks begin to sway. Bruises erupt up above, dark Goliaths flexing power, instilling fear. A tornadic maelstrom has come to change the day.

By

Aaron Echoes August