Now that the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds to publish Small Things is over, the real […]
A dead man with a full head of gray hair, still dressed in his pajamas, stumbled out the open door of the funeral home. His chest had been cleaved nearly in half, and blood still sloshed from the wound as he shambled toward them. It was Mr. Busbee, Farris imagined, the owner of the funeral home, murdered in his sleep by the woman or one of her revenants.
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