Chapter 46 All Fall Down

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• I don’t believe in ghosts.
• At least, that’s what I tell myself as I linger in the backyard of the old Gregory place. The swamp stretches out before me, the ancient cypress trees cloaked in green haze beneath the overcast sky. From where I stand with the house rearing up behind me, I can almost taste the fetid stench of the mire. It’s the smell of decay and rotting things, a primal scent that sets my nerves on fire.