Death and madness in the swamp.
Death and Isolation were all Marcus jones had ever known.
His family’s work in the funeral business had surrounded him with an unstoppable, constant sense of melancholy.
Still, he always was a generally jovial individual.
The seemingly dead mansion he was living in with his family reeked with the stench of decay and lost dreams.
The windows were cracked and stale, and the walls had rotted to a dull black color.
The local church was a source of crippling anxiety for Marcus, as he didn’t buy into the Reverend’s brand of teaching.
Late one night his family had journeyed to the church for a midnight mass, and upon arriving, they were met with the Reverend screaming about how the townsfolk needed to repent for their sins.
No one dared critique him, as it was whispered that disobedience was heavily frowned upon.
They all listened intently, absorbing every venomous word that seeped from the Reverend’s mouth.
“WE MUST ELIMINATE THE BAD APPLE TO SAVE THE BARREL! THE GLORY OF GOD WILL SHINE ABOVE US AND SAVE US FROM HELLFIRE!”
It was then that the walls of the church shook and the windows rattled.
Thunder rang out and lightning lit up the night.
The congregation took up their places and began to march out the door to eliminate the bad apple.
Within the confines of a half hour the hunt was in full swing.
Having arrived at the edge of the Bayou where their target lived, they descended upon him like vultures on a fresh corpse.
Their daggers and blades eviscerated the man they called the Bad Apple.
All that was left upon their exit was a red cypress tree, seeped with the damned soul of a wretched man.
