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Published by Deborah LeBlanc at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Deborah LeBlanc


Neither of them moved. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they stared at the aging structure in front of them. Its weathered clapboards, wide and paint-chipped, seemed to hang on the building by sheer determination. The roof consisted of corrugated sheets of rusted tin that bowed inward toward the middle. In the center of the forty-foot span stood a single wooden door, which looked ridiculously inadequate for the expanse of building it served.

Taped to the doorframe was a yellowing sheet of paper with one word stenciled across the middle: KNOCK.

Roberta reached down protectively and stroked her bulging stomach. The baby kicked. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked her friend. “I mean, look at this set-up.”

Yeah, positive. We followed the map exactly,” Sharon said, looking at the torn paper bag she had written the directions on. She slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. You sure you want to do this?”

Roberta shifted nervously from one foot to the other, tasting the musky, fecund odor of a nearby bayou with her every breath. She was usually game for anything, but this place gave her the creeps. She glanced back over her shoulder at Sharon’s husband’s new ’66 Mustang and hoped the weeds and sticker bushes hadn’t damaged the paint job. Glen would be gargantuanly pissed.

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