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If some say that we are created from dead stars, or that God cobbled us together from dust and ribs, I was made, and unmade, by the brush
Words were my life. I had forsaken memories for memoirs, life for literature. So it was only fitting, I suppose, that my family finally
I love the fact that, far more than most stories on this site, you've taken the time to create an atmosphere and a character to care for before the horror makes an appearance. The story is centered around Scott rather than about the monster-and that's wha
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