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Sherrise Purdum
A young woman sits alone and reads of a vengeful God.
There is no comfort in her hard uncompromising chair.
She shivers and looks around the cold barren room,
Gazing beyond her pealing casement to a deserted church.
Her candle flickers as a soft wind moans beneath her door.
A dank fog creeps up from the fen,
Encircling the church and choking out it's light.
A Familiar, as dark as death with belladonna eyes,
Slinks through shadows
Of skeletal trees
Searching...
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