David Applegate
In the cold dark night, as you walk down the path lined by dead elms, the wind howled, the stone path crunch beneath your feet, and a crow lets out a single squawk before it flew off.
A dark fog surrounds you, you try to run, but you fall, then one after each other cold boney hands grip you and pull you into the ground...
A dark fog surrounds you, you try to run, but you fall, then one after each other cold boney hands grip you and pull you into the ground...
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