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My dear sister,
I beg ten thousand pardons for not answering your kind letter, writ two moons prior.
Exposed as I am to the tantalizing effects of this prodigious city, I have found myself greatly enamored with mysteries therein. Its maddening nature has driven many a night spent nose-deep in texts whose meaning I hardly can conceptualize.

Though I enjoy the pleasantries of modernity, I must be curt. I write you now with dreadful news, indeed the details of which chill mine bones to their core. Master Burke, a close friend of father's, has passed on after having just turned of fifty. By no means in firm health, he oft panted for the country air by his own admission. However, master Burke did not pass silently in the night. News of his death and details therein are disquieting and familiar. His home, of which I had visited on few occasions, now reeks of the eyes.

Do you remember, sister? The eyes, those beings which had once stalked our halls? Though it was many moons befor, I do recall their presence. In the night, I oft sensed their silence — and their stench. Unmistakable was their scent, sickly sweet like that of rotted plums. Wafting betwixt our beds as they so often did, bringing with them the tantalizing dreams of a bright morrow.

A shame, really, that father never did believe our tales. Not even after what happened to mother, but truly who could blame him? Grief clouds one's judgment, and sorrowful men think little of fanciful stories. Still, I fear that the worst may yet come to pass. Even now the scent lingers, as though plucked from mine recollection as grapes from the vine. It perfumes my every waking moment, inescapable and intoxicating.

Upon receiving this letter, I ask only that you remain weary. I will be writing father soon, though I have doubts that my warning will be taken heed. Remember our rhyme, sweet sister.

Much love,

Creeping, seeping, weeping things1
Be weary of the lies it sings
Always watching, never seen
It haunts, it hides, it knows, unclean

Dearest Sister,

beep boop bopppppppp2

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