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Weekly Contest #355
The hill breathed beneath the evening wind like the breast of some sleeping thing. Long grasses rolled across its slopes in darkening waves, an endless green sea drowning slowly beneath the dusk-bloodied amber of the setting sun. The last warmth of day lingered heavily upon the earth, but beneath it crept another scent already rising from the world below, a promise of cold wind, distant rain, leaves beginning their slow surrender to autumn, their proud green moist with life, changing slowly into gold rustling parchments, whispering with the ...
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