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Weekly Contest #165
The Prescott house was quiet now. It was a horribly unusual state; the house was normally overrun with ruckus and chaos from the trio of children that ran throughout the halls and corridors during all of the hours of the day and night. But it was quiet now. There were no longer shrieks or giggles or the shattering of dinner plates. There were no whispered secrets or light footsteps or music boxes that played Chopin, Bach, and Mozart. The Prescott house was quiet now, except for Mr. Prescott, who took a couple steps inside his ...
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