Other Wise

A hark to a yester-profession

I wrote this a bit ago on BGG and had trouble finding it later, thus I note it here:

It came to me out of the wet dark and leaked ichor down the side of my bureau. By morning it was dead, life having fled from its rends and tears and broken teeth for the crust on the floor. I buried it deep behind the midden and rolled a heavy stone atop to remember its breathing by. I dare not eat the dark apples from the tree that sprang from under the stone.

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