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Self Fulfilling Son
Michelle struggled to walk in the snow, stumbling from dead, frozen tree to dead, frozen tree. The full moon, huge, pale-blue amongst a starry night sky lit her way. Light reflected off the snow with an equally pale-blue hue. The air was so cold and still, almost like a vacuum; she could hear no sound. She paused at a black, frozen tree, her hand resting on the side. The tree was hard like cold concrete to the touch - as if it were petrified, frozen in time. Michelle exhaled. Her...