Chapter 6: The Oval Offal — hollow.lexicon
1 Articles
1 Articles
Chapter 6: The Oval Offal — hollow.lexicon
The President (you know which, don’t say the name aloud—it shivers when heard) was melting, softly, into the antique upholstery. The Resolute Desk, once oak, now a breathing, pulsing gland, exhaled executive orders in blood-cursive, twitching with sigils of ungrammar. The walls blinked. He spoke into the red phone, not connected to any known line, but it hummed back in feral semaphore. “Send in the codes,” he whispered, though no lips moved. The…
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