The Golden Visit
The snow fell in heavy, white sheets. I wore my mother’s gold chain. It sat heavy on my chest. Cold. It smelled of old wool. We walked through the forest. My breath made clouds. The trees were bare. They looked like dead fingers. I held the chain tight. I was afraid to let go. The wind howled. It sounded like a man crying. We reached the house. It was big. It was dark. The windows were like...
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