With only a candle in hand, she slowly made her way down.
The old bricks that formed the foundation were weeping their white mortar.
She went directly to a crusty, old metal box where a wood-burning
tool was stored. Then she climbed back up the creaky stairs in a trance-like
state. The cumbersome tool was wound with a thick, black electric cord that
swung in her hand with each step she took, like the walk of a lighthouse keeper
holding his lantern.
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