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Windows blinked green with creeping tendrils, as if the house itself had grown eyes to watch the woods.
No one remembered who last lived there—but the vines did, and they were still waiting.
By Fauna BlakewellWindows blinked green with creeping tendrils, as if the house itself had grown eyes to watch the woods.
No one remembered who last lived there—but the vines did, and they were still waiting.