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The bone garden by heather kassner5/31/2023 ![]() ![]() Though she was accustomed to the dank, gloomy basement, it always smelled stronger after the rain. ![]() It whispered through the white strands of her hair, surrounding her with the scent of earth and rot. A draft (that seemed to come from nowhere, but most certainly came from somewhere) blew cold against her face. Her gray smock dress was too thin for the chill of the cellar.Īt the bottom of the staircase, she cupped her hand to guard the flame. She carried the candle as much to guide her as to warm her, if only a little. ![]() She could see quite well in even the blackest part of the night, and besides, she knew her way around the house by heart, especially this area so far beneath the floorboards. It cast a small circle of golden light that pressed the deepest shadows into the corners. In her hand, a single candle illuminated the way. She descended into the basement, tasked with collecting the bones. ![]()
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