The Distant Temple
The house stood on the hill like a rotting tooth in the jaw of the valley, its white clapboard siding peeling in long, sunburnt strips that flapped against the wind with a dry, papery sound, a testament to the years of neglect that had settled into its bones, settling into the very air that circulated through its drafty halls, where the dust motes danced in the shafts of afternoon light like...
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