The House of Crawford Women
The door opened with a sigh that seemed to come from the house itself, not the hinges. Mabel stepped into the foyer of Overlook Manor and felt the humidity of the Mississippi delta wrap around her like a wet shawl. Dust motes drifted in the shafts of light that pierced through boarded windows, and the air smelled of rotting wood and something older—something that predated the house, predated...
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