Page 20 - SAMPLE Fledgling
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Chapter Three
I knock before I open the door and step inside. Mother is standing with her back to me, surveying the storm through one of the small leaded windows. The room seems darker than usual. She is dressed as if about to walk on stage, in a long silver gown that falls to her ankles and a voluminous cape. Hearing me enter, she turns to face me. In the lamplight she is as white as snow. Her lips are red as blood.
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