The
Road Home
It was late, on a dark and stormy night.
The wiper blades were brand new, but it was still damn
difficult to see the road.
He loved working 2nd shift, but nights like
this could be tricky.
As he approached the long narrow bridge, he
instinctively slowed down, just a little bit.
He’d lived in this swampland his whole life; grown up
hearing the folklore that outsiders thought of as silly or quaint, but never
true.
He felt its eyes on him, and he gazed back as steadily
as possible.
They nodded to each other politely and he drove on.
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