The Pale Fracture
The house was a mouth. It swallowed light. It swallowed sound. It sat on the hill like a stone tooth. Margaret lived in the basement. The basement was cold. The walls wept. She kept her hands in her pockets. She kept her head down. She was small. She was quiet. She was not human. Or so they said. The village looked up. They saw the smoke. They saw the shape. They did not see the face. They...
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