The Vision She Hid
It was written in a language I didn’t recognize—strange letters, like someone had spilled alphabet soup and called it a day.
“Georgian,” Elky said, squinting at it.
“You read Georgian?” I asked with a note of admiration.
“No. But G****e does.”
He ran it through G****e translate. The words rearranged themselves into something almost English.
It was an invitation. Corporate, polite, and about as innocent as a loan shark’s smile.
We look forward to welcoming you to the Grotto. Discretion assured. The water is clear this season.
“Grotto,” Elky said, like the word tasted bad.
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