Crafts
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The Bone House
Act I: The Memory of Hands
My heart is not a real heart. It is a pump, brass and leather, driven...
The Whispering Toxin
The Blackwood Manor did not merely stand upon the cliffs of Cornwall; it clung to them like a...
The Heat Beneath the Porch
She broke the cyst on a Wednesday in October, and I was sitting on the porch watching the cotton...
The Aureole
## I
Julian Cross lived in a house on Long Island that sat too close to the ocean, the way a man...
The Observer Eye
The elevator opened on the fourth floor and Beatrice stepped out, carrying a letter. She was...