As usual, Lucy traced over parts of her experiences in her confidences with Shari, skipping lightly over her own 10 story as a pebble would over a lake. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. "Wretch!" cried Jack. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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