The Blizzard can and will strike when you least expect it
I took a few steps, my senses adjusting to the new sensations, the noise slowly recoiling into a dull roar, the stench slowly imprinting into my memories. The taste lingered, and I dug into my pocket for what I hoped was currency here.
The feeling of unease welled up deep inside her. She should turn back, she thought, but her feet carried her forward. She was aware this place had fallen to ruin; she had seen it wither and decay with time, like her, growing old and forgotten.
It’s the quiet.
The unyielding silence that envelops you even as the music blares.
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