The Mississippi night settled heavy over the Delta, thick with heat even long after the sun had disappeared. Crickets sang their song from the tall grass, their chorus mixing with the distant hum of cicadas hidden among the trees. Moonlight spilled across the cotton fields, turning endless rows of white into pale silver waves stretching toward the horizon. The dirt road that cut through town sat empty now, coated in a layer of dust that glowed softly beneath the stars.
Most folks had already gone inside early due to the missing persons headlines in the paper. Porch lamps burned low, casting warm amber light through screened windows. The smell of wood smoke drifted through the humid air, mingling with honeysuckle and the earthy scent left behind by the river.
The darkness felt alive here. Not frightening exactly. Just watchful. Waiting. As though the night itself had eyes. And if someone happened to be standing at the edge of a field, dressed in a dark suit beneath the moonlight, it might take a long moment before you realized he wasn't part of the shadows at all.
YOU ARE READING
Teeth Like Prayer
Historical Fiction"Nobody watches you the way I do. I call that devotion."
