The Pale Tale
The wind in the Blackwood Estate did not blow; it whispered, a low, constant susurrus that seemed to come from the stones themselves, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and old, rotting wood. It was a sound that had been there for centuries, long before the current generation of the Holloway family had taken up residence in the sprawling, decaying manor house on the edge of the moor. The...
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