darcy coates
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The jack-o’-lanterns grin like they know something you don’t. The night hums low and restless, the kind of October darkness that feels alive. It prowls between the porch lights, curls around doorframes, and presses against your window like it wants in. This is when the thrillers taste best — when fear has flavor, and every
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The lights are low, the wind’s whispering against the windows, and the night smells like secrets. It’s Frightful Friday, which means it’s time to feed that craving for the uncanny — tales that bite back, stories that leave fingerprints on your mind long after you close the cover. 🕸️ Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas A
literary gluttony 