Phil McLitoris

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A figure blocked her way: a gaunt man dressed in ragged, filthy clothes; bones showing through his skin; long hair shaggy; face malformed by sickness; tiny, glowing eyes buried in dark-rimmed sockets; mouth distended, filled with thick, discolored teeth. Florence stared at him. It was one of Belasco’s victims, she knew. He’d looked like this before he died.
Hell House
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