The infant’s body, now missing its pulverized head, was still twitching among the blood-soaked ruins of corpses. CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. "My child!" he groaned faintly. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. What his head conceived his hand executed. That’s about the beginning. “My dad is into this stuff. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each.
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