Jacob Campen

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“It wasn’t here last night,” Edie said. “Duh.” Hannah let her mouth hang open, smoke spilling out. She lifted one foot and knocked the peak off the little mountain of dirt at the edge of the hole. Edie peered down into the darkness. Hairy, gnarled roots poked out of damp earth cobwebbed with white threads of mycelia.
Graveyard Shift
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