I Planted A Seed Of Hatred In

New Orleans Is Unlike Any City In America. Its Cultural Diversity Is Woven Into The Food, The Music, The Architecture - Even The Local Superstitions. It's A Sensory Experience On All Levels And There's A Story Lurking Around Every Corner.

I Left The Jutra To Chop Wood. I Began My Walk Through The Snow, Five Kilometers To The Tree Line. That's When I Saw It. A Tiny Silver Of Gold Appeared Between Shades Of Gray On The Horizon. I Stared At The Amber Band Of Sunlight, Smiling. The Sun Had Returned. I Closed My Eyes. I Felt Andrius Moving Close. "i'll See You," He Said. "yes, I Will See You," I Whispered "i Will." I Reached Into My Pocket And Squeezed The Stone.

I Stared At The Enormous Homes, The Landscaping And Flower Beds Immaculate. It Was As If Dollar Bills, Instead Of Leaves, Hung From The Trees.

Charlie Marlowe Never Wrote Horror, But Somehow Horror Was Writing Charlie Marlowe.

Willie Said Normal Was Boring And That I Should Be Grateful That I Had A Touch Of Spice. She Said No One Cared About Boring People, And When They Died, They Were Forgotten, Like Something That Slips Behind The Dresser.