The Summer of the Still-Life
The Blackwood Estate did not exist in the same world as the rest of Georgia. To the locals in the town of Oakhaven, the manor was a place of ghosts and madness, a rotting carcass of a house surrounded by a forest that never changed. But inside the gates, it was always July. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and decay, and the sun hung eternally at four o'clock in the afternoon,...
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