The Vobbit (J.R.R. Tolkien)

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by Betsy Hanes Perry

In a crypt in a tomb dwelt a vampire. Not a modern, hygienic, sanitary crypt, lined with granite plaques and bronze vases of silk flowers; no, a nasty, bony, gloomy crypt, filled with the dust of death and a decaying smell, plus a TV set and a Barcalounger. It was a vampire crypt, and that meant eldritch.

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