The Sinking House of Thorne
The humidity in Mississippi doesn't just hang in the air; it weighs on the soul. The Thorne estate had once been the jewel of the Delta, a sprawling mansion of white columns and weeping willows. Now, it was a rotting carcass, sinking slowly into the black, hungry mud of the swamp. Silas Thorne was the last of his line, a man whose eyes were the color of stagnant water. He spent his days in the...
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