what i’m writing. southern goth.

Archie Bishop weren’t worth half a man. Not even on a good day. On a bad day there weren’t no point to him at all. He’d sit on that stump – out by the railroad where the boys from the mountain wore the path through the woods – and just stare at you like you was the most inconvenient thing he ever saw. But the thing you got to figure, is he was an old man when it happened. Not so old that he couldn’t own to what he did, but too old to do it by himself. And then there’s Mary Hubbard. She was the one who said she saw it. Now I’m not saying Mary’s a liar, but she’s been known to see a thing or two aint no way she saw.

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