The Rotting Promise
(Variant V-07: Southern Gothic) The humidity of the Mississippi Delta didn't just hang in the air; it sat on your chest like a wet corpse. In the heart of the swamps, where the cypress trees grew twisted like arthritic fingers and the Spanish moss wept from every branch, lay the estate of Blackwater. It was a place of crumbling columns and peeling paint, a monument to a grandeur that had rotted...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 6 Visualizações 0 Anterior