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...a melancholy little courtyard surrounded by a brick wall too high to see over.
A dead tree lifted its bone-white branches to a sky filling with gray clouds.
"Those doors look very strange," they said.
"You should say, 'They look very strangely,'" I corrected.
"They seem to be watching us..."
A sudden gust of wind made the branches clatter against each other like old boards. Dead leaves began to gather at our feet.
Shivering in the wind we managed to push open one of the heavy doors and make our way to...
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