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"Always," I said. She led me on through the house. We had to pass through her bedroom, next, on the way to the final room at the rear -- the kitchen."...ice room!" I said. It was. Sandy's kitchen was big, old-fashioned, homey, and comfortable. It was like falling back into the 1940s -- complete with a red and white checkered oilcloth on the kitchen table. All it lacked was a big coal stove. Instead, Sandy had a small-but-modern electric model."Sit down." She poured us each a mug of steaming. A smoky, ashy smell as I yanked the chain again indicated I was tethered near a campfire. Was that footsteps? Yes. I could hear the crunching of the grass. Someone was approaching. Who? I felt a rush, fright, goose bumps. My captor, surely He, tapped me lightly on my flank with what felt like a crop. He kept it up, here a touch, there a whack, until I was up on all fours. I felt Him, smelled His musky scent, yet I heard no words, nor could I see Him. Who was He? He tapped me atop my head, I. More

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