The House of Falling Trees
The House of Falling Trees The house had been dying for thirty years. It just hadn't had the decency to admit it. Silas Winslow stood on the front porch and looked at the rot eating its way up the columns like a slow disease. The magnolias had gone to seed. The ironwork was rusted into shapes that resembled bones more than ornament. Inside, the wallpaper peeled in long, curling strips like dead...
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