Just a bit of slightly yikes! self-publishing
On the edge of a wood stood the blue house. All round the house were birch trees and at the bottom of the sloping lawn was a pond. The child went to the house four times each year. In the winter, she was soothed to sleep by the mournful, breathy call of the owls in the eaves and the birch trees, just barely breaking the quiet of frozen air and snow-smothered ground. Spring-time was when…
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