Lately, nightmares have been riddled with nightmares.

The half-dim, half-dark alleys, with a thick fog, shrouded the half-collapsed houses, sucking the spirits of passers-by, turning them into walking corpses, black and crushing on the withered branches, with a sharp noise.

If you can't stop looking back, you may be around the corner, behind the crowd, next to the building, anywhere that can be peeped at and inconspicuous.

Like a shadow, the cold hair stands tall.

I endure

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