Friday, November 22, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Ben Croshaw

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The curtains were drawn, and the only source of light - indeed, the object to which my attention was suddenly exclusively drawn - was a lit candle on the kitchen table, that had probably originally been shaped like Snoopy but was now a mass of melted rivulets, as if Snoopy had fallen victim to some kind of flesh-eating virus. (Chapter One)

 
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