They stood at last by a crumbling wall, looking up and up
and still farther up at the great tombyard top of the old house. For that's
what it seemed. The high mountain peak of the mansion was littered with what
looked like black bones or iron rods, and enough chimneys to choke out smoke
signals from three dozen fires on sooty hearths hidden far below in dim bowels
of this monster place. With so many chimneys, the roof seemed a vast cemetery,
each chimney signifying the burial place of some old god of fire or enchantress
of steam, smoke, and firefly spark. even as they watched, a kind of bleak
exhalation of soot breathed up out of some four dozen flues, darkening the sky
still more, and putting out some few stars.
Ray Bradbury, from The Halloween Tree
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