A little bit about Brett...Brett Williams lives in Kansas, where he reads, writes, and helps millions of people get their drugs. Having grown up in a small Missouri town, much of his writing includes rural settings and small-town politics. His work has been published by Thuglit, Delirium Books, Hellfire Publishing, and most recently Gallows Press. He writes horror, crime, and anything else he feels like.
Synopsis of Murky DepthsAfter the Mississippi River floods, leaving the Southeast Missouri a diluvian wasteland, good Samaritan David Miller hops into his boat and trolls to neighboring towns to offer his assistance. Meandering though flooded streets and fields, David finds himself in the tiny town of Clayton. Their homes and business built atop crudely-erected stilt legs, the town has survived the flood unscathed. Intrigued by this strange town, and its unfriendly, pasty-skinned denizens, David credits their eccentricities on backwoods superstition. He couldn't be more wrong. Beneath Clayton's quaint, rustic back-country veneer lurks an ancient history steeped in a most dangerous evil. When he befriends a local couple living on the outskirts of the town, David unwittingly becomes a part of an epic struggle between good and evil—a struggle that will leave him questioning his faith...if he survives.
Peak inside, if you dare...Despite the fact these people didn't appear the least bit concerned about getting in a boat and floating into town on a Sunday to pick up supplies, me doing the same surely caught their attention. Everyone on the boardwalk stopped to turn and gape at me. A couple came out of shops to glare. But the most off-putting aspect of it all had to be the strangeness of the people. Now I've taken my fair share of trips to other States in the Union. People from the South look distinctly different from people up North. West coast folk have tans and nice physiques. We from the Midwest are a little beefier in general. But these folks, practically neighbors to me, looked different.
The men were all bald, their skin grayish, heads round, mouths wide. I don't care much for talking bad about folks, but these folks were downright ugly. Dare I say, not right.
Here I had come offering help, yet they couldn't have been more prepared unless they'd had a flood wall surrounding the entire city.
As much as I'd have rather turned boat and left, I raised a hand in greeting and called out over the sound of my small engine, “Hello there.”No reply sounded. Nor did I notice any lips move. Not to be detoured, I navigated my boat to a ramp leading up out of the water to the boardwalk. There I shut off the engine and docked. I lashing my boat good and tight. Stepping out onto the ramp I called out again. “Boy, we could sure use a little rain, don'tcha think?” I chuckled, stepping onto the boardwalk.
“A few more inches would be fine,” a surly man replied. I couldn't tell if he had a deadpan sense of humor, but somehow he seemed much too serious.
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