The Wistful Dinner
The fog rolled in from the harbor, thick and grey. It tasted of salt. It tasted of rust. Maren lived in the attic. The roof leaked. The floorboards groaned. She was not a woman. Not entirely. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were black. They held no light. She had the shape of a human. She had the hunger of a beast. The house belonged to the Lord of the Manor. He was rich. He was old. He had power....
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