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Weekly Contest #289
(this story includes triggering matters like death, grief and supernatural horror.)Yvaine was drenched within minutes by the rain which matched without any tag of will or tell—as she was caught standing at the village edge staring into the pyre.The scent of charred wood and flesh mingling with the air was thick as grief itself—again, she was too late.The elders had already burned the body.Her mother's body.The flames had died down to embers, but they had done their work. The woman who had raised her, who had whispered old names into her ear ...
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