Bernadette has never been much for love and all that. The last thing she needs is some stupid mythological creature shooting arrows at her.

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When Bernadette moved to Rhode Island, she began writing tiresome horror prose using long-winded sentences of no less than eighty-seven words each...

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Bernadette was a clever girl, but like so many clever people, she rarely enjoyed school. What she did enjoy was the smell of burning equations and Charles Dickens novels in the morning.

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