The Chronicles of Clementine
(Style: Southern Gothic) The Blackwood Estate did not sit upon the land; it sank into it. The porch sagged like a tired lip, and the ivy strangled the columns in a slow, green murder. In the cellar, beneath the smell of damp earth and ancient rot, sat the Sleepers—twelve silver pods that looked like oversized eggs, humming a low, mournful tune. I am Clementine. I am the house. I am the walls,...
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