Sample V-04: The Rot in the Garden
(Southern Gothic) The humidity of Georgia was a physical weight, a wet blanket that smelled of jasmine and decay. I watched Silas from the porch, my eyes narrowing. He was a good boy—too good. He moved through the house with a quietness that bordered on the spectral, always anticipating my needs before I even spoke them. I remember the day I found him in the rain, a shivering scrap of a thing....
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