THE TESTIMONIAL OF P.T. LYFANTOD — Barrows School

EIGHTEEN

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TRIVIAL DETAILS           “We don't have a Headmaster,” said Flynn, observing that Lyfantod deflated a little as he said it.             “You don’t?”           “What I mean to say is we don’t call him that.  Barrows School is overseen by the Rector.”  He tipped his head to the side.  “Have you found something?”           “The Rector,” Lyfantod repeated slowly, trying out the feel of the new word.  “Huh.”           “They’re essentially the same thing,”  Flynn offered helpfully.    ...

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SIXTEEN

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UNEXPECTED MEETINGS           That miraculous note folded up and tucked carefully away in one of his jacket pockets, and the gruesome zombie heart he'd harvested from one of the fallen Mountain Men he prayed to God not leaking through the Witchdoctor's sack an uncomfortable weight in another, Lyfantod set out from The Weird Sisters to find a phone booth.  Barrows School was close enough that he could taste it, and he relished the pain he knew it would cause Moira McMorran to tell him how to get there.             His imagination ran...

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