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Whispers in the Pines at Midnight

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The moon hung low in the sky, casting long ghosts across the graveyard. A chilly breeze rustled the pines, their branches sighing like old men. An unsettling silence hung in the air, broken only by the rhythmic https://kathryndusc122583.anchor-blog.com/17721550/echoes-in-the-pines-at-midnight

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