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Inside the Crevasse
This isn't a true short story, but an imaginative scene. You'll have to forgive me posting it here anyways.
The crevasse held a molten light. The nighted mountain outside was the true abyss. Down a hundred feet, the lava streamed, pushing out the cold air. An old man stood amidst the lava, letting it churn and hiss about his ankles. Overhead, the white stars peered into the crevasse briefly as they swam on. The old man kept his gaze down, concentrated. He bent suddenly and stuck both arms into the stream. He brought them up again, triumphant, for in his sooty hands he grasped a wriggling fish.
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"...For I have never seen a sun that did not bury its head in the side of the world when the day was done." -SR
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