Southern Gothic Festival 2025

 

Remember this: "Terror made me cruel." ~Emily Bronte~

I went to the local Southern Gothic Festival in Camden, South Carolina over the weekend.  I am side questing. The weather was showing out with its dismal dreary rain that overcast the Historic Camden Revolutionary War Park. I am out looking for scary moments and ghosts in old wartime haunts. This is a free literature festival with several names so next year pen it down and come out. 

I met Kassidy Plyler of the Catawba Cultural Center. Her talk, Catawba Stories & The Trickster Spirit-History, Folklore, and the Unseen, is an overview of Catawban folklore and storytelling traditions centered around the trickster. Miss Plyler reflected on oral histories, mythologies and cultural resilience and how it shapes indigenous identity. She is an absolutely wonderful person to talk to. 

I tried to use my time wisely due to the overlap in different speakers giving their talks in different buildings on the campus.  

The next panel I sat down for is Folklore, Fear and the Family, Crafting the Modern Southern Gothic. The authors speaking are Allison Gunn and Emily Carpenter. Their talk is centered around how inherited myths, haunted landscapes, and family legacies continue to shape Southern Gothic.  Allison Gunn drew from Appalachian and Deep South folklore. Both authors were referencing generational and regional storytelling through the lens of trauma and how it creates a framework for writing on the line between fear and inheritance and how it is evolving with each new generation of Southern Gothic writer. 

Allison Gunn is debuting her novel, Nowhere. Emily Carpenter has been tapped to have her novel, Gothictown, turned into an AMC television show, so that is in the works. Their panel talk is very informative and encouraging to the new writer to Southern Gothic. Great questions were asked in reference to how each went about their process for developing the driver of the stories. 

I did sit in for the panel, Spirits of the South-Religion, Ritual, and the Southern Gothic Imagination. Dr. Jeffrey E. Anderson, Professor of History at University of Louisiana-Monroe, did bring a lot of clarification to the different questions that were asked. His book, Hoodoo, Voodoo, and Conjure: A Handbook, focuses on black southern communities, resistance traditions and African American spiritual practices. 

The practitioner, Tayannah Lee McQuillar, on the panel wasn't helpful due to lack of verbal content. Her input would have been better if she would have separated her sacred practice and spoke more on the use of impostor Hoodoo and other cultural practices to develop story and ambiance without sacrificing personal practices. If she would have spoken from that perspective she would have been more engaging for the audience. Her tarot card deck is, The Hoodoo Tarot and The Sibyls Oraculum. Her stance as I was hearing her talk in short sentences is one of a person that believes different races have a separate supernatural world and we are all divided up based on race when we die but then maybe not but that is how it came across. I don't subscribe to that train of thought. I respect her point of view as it pertains to her. 

There was a third speaker on this panel, Dr. Heather Freeman, who is a Professor of Communications and Media Studies and creator of the podcast, Magic in the United States. She explores esoteric and spiritual  traditions across American history through media, storytelling, and scholarship. She didn't speak much either but some of the questions were not address to her. I guess everyone is into Voodoo? 

Image by Yulia Gapeenko

The best of all the speakers was Dr. Abigail Lundelius Smith. She current serves as instructor of Rhetoric and Literature at New Aberdeen College in Charlotte. Dr. Lundelius's talk is Flannery O' Connor-See the Sacred In the Grotesque. Flannery O'Connor used the grotesque to uncover that point between the sacred and the profane where redemption is hiding around every page, or corner. 

She talks about O'Connor picking up the baton of gothic horror by Edgar Allen Poe, who was a walking embellishment of all things descriptive that could happen to a character in the gothic genre.

Even though Flannery O'Connor had lupus she went on to live to 39 before she exited the world. One of her best quotes is, "The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it." She has several works to read from such as, "The Complete Stories" and "The Habit of Being."

The final speaker of the day is Dick Harpootlian, the prosecutor of Pee Wee Gaskins. Harpootlian's talk is on his release of his book "Dig Me A Grave." Pee Wee Gaskins was a notorious serial killer from South Carolina. I remember he once pulled up to the gas pump at my grandfather's store and he was driving his hearse. People would always ask him what was in the coffin in the back. Terribly enough, it was probably a victim of his. Harpootlian spoke of how charismatic Pee Wee was and how he somehow could talk people into doing things for him such as blowing up a law office with C4, and reaching out to Harpootlian himself to speak to him and subsequently try and plan the kidnap, ransom, and murder of his daughter by having his son do the reaching from jail for Pee Wee. Pee Wee was a hot mess. He would burn down his father's tobacco barns and lurk around hunting victims. There was one moment where Harpootlian stated that Pee Wee Gaskins had took the officers out to a location to lead them to the body. When they got there, the officers found a group of men waiting. They felt like somehow Pee Wee had communicated to the outside and those men were there to help him escape. This made me ponder, if those men were willing to help him escape, then it wouldn't be to far of a jump that those same men, who were privy of his killings, were probably in on it with him, or at least were complicent in his dastardly deeds.

If you would like to ready more about this case try Harpootlian's book. There are other books you can reference for this period in South Carolina history.

Overall, it was a great time. I ended it with a seafood boil and hit the road back home. 

Wonder what else I can get into?  

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Copyright © 2012 All Rights Reserved.

Hunting: A Ghost Story, Part IV

Mich sat inside the speakeasy drowning his conscious in the rotgut booze made out back by Frank Delano. He was listening to the songstress belting out rhythm and blues while begging the Lord for mercy because of her devious ways. He stared at her. Her pecan skin and plumb lips quivers as she sang, “I need forgiveness from you”, while hitting the high note. When the song ended, Mich walked up and put five one-hundred dollar bills into the jar labeled Inaskye's Swear Jar. Inaskye looked at the jar now full of money and picked it up. “Hey Candy Man.” She gestured with the jar. “You need forgiveness?” She picked up a lace shawl and put it around her shoulders.

He looked at the woman and she walked off while looking back. “Come on then.” He followed her to a backroom.

The dark shape followed the woman back to her SUV and stood in the shadows. The dark shape was watching and waiting. Waiting for opportunity. The dark shape's need to expose and destroy the woman grew inside with each glance of her. No one would have her.

The shape never saw it coming. The ghost appeared from behind and began to merge into the dark shape's physical being, holding still the dark shape's form. The apparition encircled her arms around the dark shape and began to squeeze. The ghost let go and the dark shape was flung through the air near the clapboard house it was standing next to. The dark shape could feel its soul being ripped from its body. The mouth harboring the last scream, began to crack and the eyes bulge. There was a thud to the body. The dark shape was impaled into the boards of the house by the straggled breathing of a stag, pushing the dark shape deeper into the wood until the wood bowed. There were gurgles as the stag pulled itself away with the dark shape hanging from its horns. Shaking the dark shape like a rag doll, the dark shape slipped free to bleed out on the ground. The ghost hovered above. The ghost turned and moved to where the dark shape stood to see the woman safely get into her SUV and drive away.

Inside the clapboard house, Minnie Miller could hear noises outside. Burglars again. She picked up her 38 revolver from the place she shoved it between her knitting needles and yarn. She slipped on her fuzzy house shoes. She took a first glance outside the window. She didn't see the body lying underneath the window. She went outside onto the porch and walked to the end where she heard the noise. She saw a body under he window, took aim and let a bullet fly.

“If you're not dead. You are now!” Wait until all her friends down at the local Senior's club learn how she thwarted a burglar or worse yet, a rapist caught in the act. She waited to see if it moved. Minnie walked back into the house and dialed 911.

The 911 operator came onto the line. “Hello, 911. What is your emergency?”

Minnie Miller straightened her flora printed moo-moo. “I would like to report a dead body. At least I think it's a dead body. Right outside under my window.”

Eli returned to the area where Hugh took a spill out the deer stand. Night occluded the day and the sounds of the woods began to make their mark on the silence. He wanted to know what was going on. He asked Mich to meet him but Mich had a prior engagement. He wondered why Correlia had not returned his call. He called her twenty times so far. He was beginning to worry.

Eli knew Correlia's stand was not to far behind her father's house which abutted the area the three men had hunted days earlier. He always liked to be close by so if she shot something he and the boys could help her load it up. He walked through the woods to see if he could find her stand. When he got to the lean-to he pushed the nylon screen aside and scooted inside. He sat down and found a journal scrapbook. He wondered should he do some investigative work and spy on what she was into. He thought not to but curiosity got the better of him. He opened the journal and found deeply personal information written in its pages. Some of it disturbed him. He found the entry from days ago to find some photos of Correlia and Hugh trying on wedding dresses and tuxedos. Eli snorted and thought those two. Why would she leave this behind? Eli sat there for a moment then began to feel a little worried. No, this wasn't right. Something wasn't right here. He got up and crawled out. He looked in different directions. He saw a light off in the distance and began walking towards it. He lost track of the time, but walked a short distance through the woods. As he got closer to the edge of the woods, he could see the shape standing. As he stopped, the time it took for the apparition to transverse the distance knocked Eli down as the ghost screamed the wail of a Banshee. He yelled and got up to run but no matter where he went it was there. It growled and moved back to the edge of the woods then disappeared.

Eli recovering his composure crawled across the ground to stare down the path leading to the open area. Woman's things were hanging from tobacco string in the limbs of the trees. Puzzled yet oddly pulled, he got up and walked to the edge of woods to see Old Man Pierce out in his back yard hanging his daughter's things in the trees. It was strange behavior. Eli saw something flutter from the clothes line. It was lace of some kind. He then began to wonder if Old Man Pierce had gotten wind of what his daughter was planning?

Rachel Gray Owl lay on the porch soaking up the night air. The sounds of frogs interrupted what would otherwise be a quiet night. Her Auntie Mallory sat beside her in a white wicker rocking chair. She pulled the Peruvian blanket over her feet. The blanket was one her Aunt had given her after purchasing it at a local pau wau. Red Threads were woven as a background with the image of white fish swimming in a blue and yellow geometrical shape. The borders reached out to the edge. It brought her comfort.

Her Auntie Mallory stared out into the night sky.

“Rachel, do you think you need to go to the Elders? Talk to them about your troubles? I think it might help you.”

Aunt Mallory picked up her glass of sweet tea before removing a magazine from the small porch table. She was thankful for these quiet, cool nights. The mosquitoes were gone and she could engage herself in the sounds of nature while perusing the latest bird and flower magazines. Spring was going to be there soon enough and she had to prepare for the planting. Bulbs, yes that would be nice she thought, some real Dutch bulb from Holland.

Rachel was silent inside her blanket. She thought about the course her life was taking. She didn't like it. She use to believe activism was for the greater good yet she ended up fighting with everyone that had a difference of opinion. Was life suppose to be this way? The constant case of battling with everyone while no one solved the problem. Her Aunt Mallory discarded the current magazine for a fashion magazine.

“Auntie Mallory, I have never tried to be pretensions on my attitude. It is what it is. People want to judge me. I am trying to do good in the world. If it weren't for Correlia Pierce, I would have no problem. She is more of a problem for me with her killing animals and posting her images online. Who does she think she is?”

Auntie Mallory looked away from her scrutiny of the latest runway fashion.

“Rachel dear, you can't help what you feel passionate about. I would tell you that when questing after anything there are going to be obstacles. You have to fight the good fight. Not everyone is your enemy. Stop looking for people to validate your suspicions of them and pushing them away. Just take this investigation to find your half-sister who was adopted out at birth. You haven't given up on that. I hope it doesn't disappoint you.”

A wine colored SUV slowly made its way down the woodland path to the Gray Owl Residence. Amber Jennerett flipped on her high beams as she coasted slowly between pine trees and oaks on the lonely drive. She could see the light of the porch up ahead. She hoped Rachel was ready to hear the results of her investigation. She lived in town and knew the Gray Owl's well. She could see Rachel's Aunt Mallory and Rachel on the porch. She sucked in her breath and took a drink of her soda. Amber pulled up into the yard, parked the SUV and got out. She walked to the other side and opened the door to retrieve a manilla envelope. She shut the door. As she was walking up the drive she waved and called out, “Hello Miss Mallory.”

Rachel Gray Owl motioned for Amber to take a seat in one of the wicker chairs. Her anxiety and excitement began to mount the moment she saw Amber get out her vehicle. She felt a chill in the air.

The ghost was standing in the center of Rachel, Aunt Mallory, and Amber. She wasn't sure why she was here but felt it important.

Amber sat down and looked at Rachel.

“Rachel, when you first asked me to investigate this missing half-sister I wasn't sure if I would find her. I did find her and I hope you will understand that things don't always turn out the way we would like. Not that I am saying this is bad but I want you to keep an open mind.”

Rachel didn't like the sound of where this was heading. “Oh God, is it bad?”

Amber looked Rachel in her eyes. “It will be a bit of a surprise to you.”

Rachel glanced at her Aunt Mallory. “I am a big girl. I can take it.”

Amber opened the envelope and pulled out some documents and a photo. She handed the photo to Rachel. “This is your sister.”

Rachel looked at the photo. Upon looking at it, she realized who it was and put her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out. “No this can't be...”

Her Aunt Mallory got up and looked over Rachel's shoulder. The suspense was killing her. When she saw the photo she even looked at Amber in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

Amber flipped through the papers to find the birth certificate. “Yes. This document confirms it. This little girl was taken from the hospital and raise not to far from here. She never knew who her family was. She thought her father was all the family she had. He was a bad man from what I hear around town.”

Rachel got up and walked off the porch. She couldn't digest this. She could hear her Aunt's worried voice calling to her, “Rachel dear!” The air was getting colder as Rach walked inside of the woods. She began to cry erratically before falling to her knees and burying her face in the leaves. The ghost kneeled down and showed herself to Rachel.

Rachel opened her eyes to see the angry face of the ghost dressed in lace. She screamed, fell back, and began to scramble into a tree. She could hear her Aunt Mallory and Amber calling for her. The ghost blazed. The eyes were the most angry she had ever seen. Eyes of revenge, retribution and fury. The ghost took a step then as if realizing slowly back away evaporating into sparks that resembled fireflies. Rachel turned her head into the tree. She didn't want to look up not even when her Aunt Mallory began to pull on her shoulder.

“What is wrong with you child? What did you see?”

Eli sat in his truck with his bottle of bourbon. He was crying while smoking a cigar. The CD player came on. Ty Herndon's voice came from the speakers. He looked up out of the front window. Coming through the woods was the glow of a light, the ghostly woman.

The radio was blaring the voice of Ty Herndon's bridge:

     Ashes to Ashes dust to dust

     I'll lay beside you forever in love

Eli got out of the truck. He walked toward the visage. He started to run towards it. The glow stopped.

The music from the truck waif through the woods as it changed songs. Eli stopped in front of the specter. She lifted her veil and let it fall away. The ghost of Correlia stood before him. She put her hands out and started to sing with the voice on the radio:

    they say for everyone,

    there's that certain one

    Out there, somewhere......

Eli  walked towards her. She was dead, wasn't she? He thought about it for a second but decided he didn't care. He walked right into her arms.

Correlia murmured. “I want you to come with me.”

Eli pulled away. “I am not dead.”

Correlia laughed and pointed to the truck. Inside was Eli, dead with a burning cigar in his fingers.

Eli looked at the truck in his usual realistic philosophy.

“I guess that solves it then. Can't say I'll miss it.”

Correlia softly laughed. “You are as tart in death as you were in life.”

Eli grabbed her again and kissed her dead lips. “Like I say, to be continued.....”

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Hunting: A Ghost Story, Part III

Two Days Prior:

Correlia Pierce put on her boots and reached into the gun cabinet to pull out a box of 30-30 rifle shells. She pulled three bullets out and slipped them into the camouflaged pouch. She wanted to keep some handy while she was in the woods. Correlia was sure there were already bullets in her gun. She liked to be prepared. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Pulling her backpack open, she slipped the bottled water and pouch into the bag along with her flashlight and a scrapbook journal. As she was unhooking her cell phone, she heard a horn blow out in the front yard. She peered out the window.

“What is she doing here?”

She walked over to the door with her backpack, opened it and walked outside on the front porch.

“Rachel Grey Owl. What do I owe the pleasure?” Correlia knew this wasn't a good thing. Wherever Rachel Grey Owl appeared, trouble followed.

Rachel Grey Owl opened the door to her sedan and walked up to Correlia. She stared brazenly at her in contempt.

“I know about you and Mich.”

“You do now.” Correlia laughed.

Rachel pulled a photograph out of her pocket. The photograph showed Correlia and Mich in an embrace, kissing. Correlia took the photo from Rachel and looked at it.

“This is nothing. It is an innocent picture of me and Mich. Nothing more.”

Enraged Rachel fumed.

“How can you say that? You and Mich are clearly lovers. How long has this been going on? I demand an answer.”

“Why don't you go ask Mich?” At this point, Rachel was just pissing Correlia off. “He seems to like it by the picture.”

Correlia turned to walk toward the woods. She didn't have time for this. She stopped and turned around in case Crazy Rachel wanted to attack her. “I don't understand you. You are all over the place acting crazy. Did you ever think that might be the reason why Mich broke it off with you? Or can you not get that into that vain head of yours?” She turned back to walk off into the woods.

Rachel Grey Owl glared at Correlia as she disappeared into the woods. She turned around to see the wind had picked up. On the clothes line behind her, blowing in the breeze were curtains and lace bedding drying in the sun.

Rachel Grey Owl thought of all the time logged tracking Correlia's movements online. She followed her from her job and to the laundry; sat outside to watch her fold her clothes. She tried to tamper with her car but someone walked up on her outside of the bar. Someone needed to teach Correlia a lesson.

Correlia walked down the path. Her cell phone began to ring. Hugh's number showed up on the caller id. She answered.

“What are you doing?” She laughed.

Hugh's voice came over the line. “I have the package. I picked it up this morning after I bought groceries. Are you going to be at home later?”

“Yes,but I am in the woods right now. I don't want it left on the porch. I'll come by later and pick it up. Dad is not suppose to be here this evening. I think he is going on an overnight fishing trip down at Lake Mead.”

“Okay Correlia. Just come by after you finish.”

“Okay Hugh. Thanks again.”

Correlia ended the call and put the cell phone in her pocket. Everything was going to be okay. It just had to be.

There was a snapping of limbs. Startled Correlia saw Eli walk out of the bushes.

“Did I scare you?” He began to laugh. “You should have seen the look on your face. It was priceless.” He walked over to Correlia and pulled her close to kiss her. She pushed back.

“Stop being a douche.” Correlia was a bird with fluffed feathers.

“You keep acting like that I am going to cut off the loving.”

“You are not suppose to see me.”

Eli chuckled. “Girl, I have seen you naked haven't I? What else is there?”

“Eli, this has to stop.” She pulled off her backpack and took a swing at him.

“Noooo, it must continue.” Eli grabbed Correlia and pulled her down to the ground.

Mich Blake pulled into the drive of the little, white, wooden church nestled just inside some oaks with flowing Spanish moss. He had been crying for some time. Things were not going as he would have liked. He got out of the truck and walked to the back door of the parsonage and knocked on the door. Reverend Summers answered the door.

“Mich, come in. I wasn't expecting anyone until about 6 pm.”

Mich walked inside the cozy sitting room. He sat down and looked at Reverend Summers.

“I would like to confess a sin.”

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Hunting: A Ghost Story, Part II

The Next Day:

The next morning, Roger Maldonado walked into Hugh Lorimer’s hospital room. His sharp cut suit was the current bespoke style. He dropped his coat on the faux leather recliner and sat on the bed.

Hugh awoke with a start.

“Hello honey. I just got back from the pastoral conference. Just as soon as you contacted me I hopped the first plane to get here.”

Roger leaned over and kissed Hugh on the lips.

“You are always getting yourself into trouble. When is this going to stop?” He laughed at the grimace on Hugh’s face.

“Now Roger, you know I like to hunt. I simply slipped. I had my gear on to keep me from falling but when I started to get down from the tree I lost my footing.” Hugh picked up a small plastic cup to sip some water.

Roger looked sternly at Hugh.

“At least take some precautions with those ladder rungs. You could have been killed and where would I be then?” Roger started to wipe the creases out of the bed comforter.

Hugh looked out the window like a guilty man. He stayed silent.

“I saw something; out there at the stand.”

Roger looked at Hugh. “What was it?”

Hugh began to tremble. “I think it was a ghost.”

Roger began to laugh. He stopped when he saw the look of worry on Hugh’s face. “Come on now. You want me to believe you saw a ghost?”

Roger was about to respond when the food tray for lunch arrived. He thought it best to question Hugh later. The pain killers must be affecting his mind. Hugh began to eat and changed the channel on the television.

“I did Roger.” Hugh picked at his food in silent contemplation.

Eli checked his cell phone messages. Correlia had not returned his phone call yet. He knew she left town yesterday to visit her Aunt to tell her the good news. It was good news to him but he was sure others wouldn’t think so. He hoped Mich Blake had not gotten wind of the news.

Mich Blake spent the better part of the morning calling local taxidermists to price head mounts for Hugh. Everyone in town doing the work was overrun with pieces not finished on time. One of the taxidermists suggest he call Tim's Taxidermy. The taxidermist did refer to him a Nick the Necrophiliac. Mich thought it was because of the kind of work they were in, mounting dead things and all. He didn't care what the dude was into as long as the price and the work were right.

Mich pulled the head from the refrigerator and walked out the house to put it in his cooler. A gray sedan pulled up behind his truck. Rachel Grey Owl jumped from the car and began to accost Mich verbally.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Mich eyeballed Rachel. “Don't come here bothering me. I got errands to run. Why are you here anyway?”

Rachel Grey Owl pulled out a photo of Correlia Pierce.

“I know this is the tramp you have been sneaking around with in the woods. Did you not think I wouldn't find out?”

Rachel took a swipe at Mich with her hand. Mich sidestepped the blow which landed on his chest.

“So help me God Mich, you and she will pay for this.”

Mich took a step back. Mich thought this sounded like a threat. He didn't know Rachel that well because the relationship started out as a drunk one night stand that developed into a crack habit. She reminded him of the song Jessie's Girl but he wanted to give her back.

“Usually I put up with your jealous crap but not today. I broke it off with you and I mean it. You need to get back in your paddy wagon and head back where you come from.”

Mich crossed his arms over his chest. He had enough of Rachel's melodramatics. It was not like he couldn't find him another woman. He liked Rachel for her activism but when she turned it on him in a conversation right after sex, he figured the relationship was dead in the water.

“I don't know why you came to my yard waving a picture of Correlia Pierce. I can only think you want to fight with her as you do the rest of us. Correlia is a friend. I think maybe you should go.”

The fury in Rachel Grey Owl's eyes burned. “A friend? Is that what you call it. You go down into the woods with her and make biscuits then come to my house to do the same thing. I hope you get and STD.”

Rachel got back into her sedan, lit the ignition and tried to pull over onto Mich's foot as she sped away.

“Screw you and her.”

Mich watched as the sedan tore down the road vicariously. His mailbox suffered the consequences.

“Crazy biotch.”

He opened the door to his truck, hoping she wouldn't come back. He knew it wasn't that Rachel was an animal activist but a deeply disturbed woman. It would seem that was the kind he liked; volatile and nutty.

Mich Blake drove down the dirt road to the small white building beside Yadkin's cemetery. He pulled his truck into the unassuming parking lot to the taxidermy building. A non-descript sign with a duck and deer silhouette in black hung by the mail box. The yard looked a mess with bits and pieces thrown around. This made Mich believe there was no woman caring for the place. He rung the door bell. There was no answer. He wrung the door bell again before trying the door. He turned the knob and walked inside. A radio was playing loudly as a man was doing some work on a deer head.

Mich yelled. “Hey guy! I am here to drop off a friend's deer mount.”

Tim Nicholson jumped as Mich tossed something at him to get his attention. He looked up.

“What can I do you for?” Tim stopped what he was doing.

“My name is Mich Blake. One of my friends said you had the best price for doing a deer mount. I brought my buddy Hugh's head by to see if you could pencil it in.”

“Sure. I am just about caught up with everything here. Go get it and I'll write up a ticket. I do require a one hundred dollar deposit. No refunds.”

Mich moved for the door. “I'll be right back.”

Mich walked back out the door to the truck to retrieve the head. When he returned he set the black plastic bag on the wooden work bench. Tim was nowhere in sight. He saw a door then walked over to it because it was partially cracked and pushed it open with his fingers.

Inside of the room was a bed. On the bed was what appeared to be a woman or what use to be a woman. The room smelled of preservatives. The ghastly face stared back at Mich. Mich was startled when Tim walked beside him and pulled the door closed.

“What is that?”

Tim stared Mich in the eyes.

“A man is entitled to the love of his life.”

(To be Continued)

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~