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Weekly Contest #67
January 1st and find myself in the creature's infinite tomb of a gut. I haven't the slightest inkling of how I've based myself here. All I remember is holding the treasure in my hand and observing the testimony of existence. That starry and fiery treasure that took me under an infernal influence. I haven't come to terms with how I am documenting my narrative but I am confident it is being documented. I cannot see so even if I bear my journal it is worthless down here. My audio recorder is shot and dead, it took a scattering of bullets ...
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