Tattered Page

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I swear I saw it! A mist, moving like a living thing. Out of it emerged a dozen bodies, limp as empty sacks, drained of blood to the last drop. When they ordered us to clean them, I recognised some – I used to bring them food in the prison cells.
There are plenty more still down there, waiting.
For what, though? To be sacrificed to that… thing?
What if we’re next on its menu?