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Emotional Outbursts, Issue 28

Moonlight filters through an open window, bathing the baby-pink bedroom in a wash of white and yellow light. The room is still, silent. Beyond the swathes of silken angels, gilded frames and fixings, crucifixes, wet wax candles weeping, butterflies beating, lies a hollow horror - true cruelty, unknown. Deep-down-below in pits of fine silt sits a shroud. A baby smothered, bundled bound in sullied muslin. The enclave opens, and there are dozens.

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