The Faded River
The house stood at the edge of the moor, a sprawling, decaying thing of stone and slate that seemed to grow out of the earth as much as it was built upon it, its windows dark and hollow like the sockets of ancient giants, and in the deepest cellar, where the air tasted of damp earth and old blood, the boy Thomas Whitmore knew that he was not merely a child who lived there but the root system...
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