Cult Favorite - For Madmen Only (Dicennial Awakening)

For the most part, the salvage sale had the usual fare, not quite scrapyard-ready architectural elements and the like. But in one corner, wedged underneath a broken-legged writing desk, might've that brownish heap of papery rot once someplace, sometime been a cardboard box? Disintegrating on contact like acidic brain receptors, the sheath unfurls a heretofore undisturbed stack of perfectly preserved hand-stamped wax records.

Even unplayed, their contents abound like candles so aged they can stink up a warehouse floor.

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