Sample V-06: The Architecture of Decay
The manor at Blackwood Creek did not stand so much as it loomed, a skeletal remain of Southern ambition choking under a canopy of weeping willows. I arrived there in the summer of 1952, a young man with a degree in history and a desperate need for employment. My employer, Colonel Julian Thorne, was a man who existed in the periphery of the house, a ghost who still breathed. Thorne had once been...
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