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horror,The Pull

horror,The Pull

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Maren stumbled over the uneven cobblestones, her shoes slick with rain and her body pulsing from prostration that refused to yield. The girl beside her moved with an creepy certainty, bases slightly making a sound as they pressed forward, weaving through alleys that sounded aged, narrower, more decayed than the last thoroughfares they had covered. The fog clung to their shoulders, belting around them like a living cloak, and

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