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Weekly Contest #357
This story contains themes of child loss and death. Thank you. I do not remember my parents’ faces. It’s something I had to accept long ago, being the first truth I knew about myself. When the few kids I knew as a child talked of the sweetness of a mother and the sternness of a father, I just nodded my head and acted as if it was the first memory I knew. In truth, my first memories were of cold stone. It all started for me running for my life from the many lonely guards searching for a way to show power to the weak and helpless. It ...
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