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Short Ghost & Horror Collections - Book 55

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The Reflection of the Spectre

"The reflection of my spectre was no spectre at all. It was the solid, substantial, flesh, blood, and bone of a six-foot man," he writes. "I half-rose and called out. Arnold! Oh, Arnold! Is it... Can it be? Even as I called, foolishly, idiotically, pleadingly, in a hollow, unnatural voice, I knew there would be ... no response."

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