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Indeed, it was a vision, scary and surreal, as Ross slowly opened his eyes. The room swam into focus, whitewashed walls glaring, faint scent of antiseptic pricking at his senses, and the persistent beeping of something that probably wasn’t a church bell.
“Good afternoon…hellooo…”
Ross muttered under his breath, certain he was still trapped in some fevered dream or nightmarish sequel to his droving adventures.
By Michael HoldingIndeed, it was a vision, scary and surreal, as Ross slowly opened his eyes. The room swam into focus, whitewashed walls glaring, faint scent of antiseptic pricking at his senses, and the persistent beeping of something that probably wasn’t a church bell.
“Good afternoon…hellooo…”
Ross muttered under his breath, certain he was still trapped in some fevered dream or nightmarish sequel to his droving adventures.