The Beast of Magnolia Hall
The magnolias at Magnolia Hall had not bloomed in seven years. Not because the trees were dead—they were not. They were alive, their branches thick and green, their leaves glossy and dark. They did not bloom because the soil had forgotten how to remember. Clara Boudreaux had read that somewhere, in a book she could no longer name, and it had stayed with her the way certain sentences stay with...
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