A harry fang 40 sec story

The ivy seemed to consume the large country house as we approached through an avenue of trees.

They seemed to reach down to touch us. We knew we shouldn’t have been afraid. After all, it was in the family – even if we hadn’t visited this branch for years. Indeed, not many of us had.
It was something about a deep, sinister secret – a room and a descendant who was – well; undead.
We were welcomed in through the jaws of the huge door, and we didn’t mind the dust – the cobwebs – too much. It was in keeping with the place.
We ate well that night, even if the conversation was morbid. And as darkness fell and the shadows flitted in the candlelight, our host suggested my wife may like to look around the ‘secret room’.
Not one to resist a mystery, she did so. Yet, I became unnerved as the talk turned to our Undead ancestor, and the folktales of sacrifice to keep him at bay …
and it had been so long since they’d had visitors …

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