Short

fiction

April 12, 2019

Aspen walked the moors. He did it every day. It was part of his ritual. He would set off out from his hut with his dog, Harper, at his side. It was usually cold, the fog rolling down from the hills to coat the valley in obscurity. It was three miles from the hut to the cliff. Aspec would walk the same path every day, trudging through rain, snow, mud, whatev...

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