It’s actually weird for me to working on setting this early. I mean, rough ideas, sure, but usually, it’s brainstorming on plot or exploring character motivations and tendencies.

(Or off freestyling something that’s completely irrelevant, because sometimes, that’s what you have to do, y’all).

But here we are. Thinking about small, crumbling ranch houses in the country, about locked sheds and cornfields that can swallow you whole.

You can almost see the sunrise cresting the tassels, can’t you?

I can.

Muddy, musty, moldy. Water marks in the ceiling. Linoleum that’s been ripped up in places.

Rickety round kitchen tables. Single beds. Creaking floors.

Shadows, reaching again the fall of the light. The onset of darkness.

And something under the bed…

Target: 300 words
Written: 409 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Yours, Cruelly, Elvira
Comics: Southern Bastards 17-20 (come on, Jasons, give us more!)
Music: Young Modern, Silverchair (such an underrated album)

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