PLACES, LIKE PEOPLE, GO WRONGThey turn off the path and head into the shadows, becoming something other than normal. Black places filled with blank rooms, closed doors, and empty hallways lined with dust. In these places your voice catches in your throat, the air seems to hum, and bad things happen. People get hurt. Objects vanish. Misery flows like the water from the loose faucet in the bathroom. Hate hangs in the air like old paint. It smells of...
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