The Bayou Creatures
The water was rising. Silas Durand knew this the way he knew the seasons—the way he knew his mother's voice, his father's temper, the exact number of steps from his bedroom window to the front porch. It was a knowledge that lived in his bones, not his mind. The bayou was eating his land, inch by inch, and there was nothing he could do about it. The main house was already half-submerged. Cypress...
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