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The Breaking Wheel

A body broken on the wheel, mouth and eyes nailed shut, skin grated on the jagged stone its crawling over, inching with merciless will toward a house sat on the crest of a lonely hill, shining as the flames chew through it, and bellowing along with the smoke the sound of babies crying, choking, gulping air, going quiet for just a moment too long, then crying some more.

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