PREVIEW
... ouis stood behind the broken stone wall, with his palm on a piece of crumbling brick, as he gazed towards the village center. The whispers surged like a tide, yet lingered around his ears like shredded flakes in the wind, refusing to disperse.
In the square, the "villagers" moved slowly across the cracked stone slabs like soulless puppets.
Their clothing was tattered, their skin an ashen gray, and their eyes bore the cloudy gleam of dead fish, yet their lips occasionally twitched ...
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