Death's Half Acre
Chapter One
... this is life, and there is no theory for it ...
-Fiddledeedee, by Shelby Stephenson
NINE DAYS LATER
Tuesday morning's light mist lay over the field of young tobacco. It softened
the air and turned the tall pines beyond into gray shadows of themselves. The
recently turned earth gave off an honest aroma that was sweet to the old man who
stood motionless to take it all in. Another year, another spring. Here in late
April, the plants were only knee-high with no hint of the pink blossoms to come,
their leaves still small and crisp and deep green. Everything fresh and young.
Everything but me, the old man told himself.
One of two dogs beside him nudged his hand with a muzzle that had, in the past
year, become almost as white as his master's hair. The man looked down wit ... read full excerpt from Death's Half Acre ebook
