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Weekly Contest #321
I stumbled into Hollow Rock more by surrender than by decision. After my second deployment and a spectacular collapse of both marriage and mind, I had nowhere left to fall. Hollow Rock wasn’t on any map—it was just a name passed around by vets who spoke in hushed tones about “the place that saves you when nothing else can.” It sat somewhere in the Sierra Nevada foothills. A cluster of cabins tucked between sunburnt pines and the slow curve of a dry creek bed, this was a place you’d go if someone told you to get lost—except in this case...
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