” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet.
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