Soot & Stench
“There is a natural mystic flowing through the air, if you listen carefully now you will hear.”
— Bob Marley
On a curiously chilly August night in the lush, still plains of the Yorkshire Moors, there is a stiff westerly wind rustling in from the humid hilltops driving out the ubiquitous cloud of black smoke settled on the ground like a blanket of death. The glowing embers flicker as a fading reminder of what just occurred; the ashy ruin that remains lays lifelessly and already tells a tale. The starry sky seems mysteriously quiet in an unusual and ominous way tonight; almost like she offered a premonition. There is a definite tension in the air, a pregnant reckoning of something forbidden.....
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