Hey Rog, just saw this. We're working on sending rain your way ASAP.
I grew up in Southern Jersey in a small town called Gibbsboro. My experiences there probably warped me into the person I am today. We had a vampire. No, seriously, guy went around biting people on the neck. Escaped our local police force a couple of times. And then there were the Pine Barrens and the Jersey Devil. James Taylor maybe going to Carolina in his mind, but I go back to the Pine Barrens and velvety nights in pine scented air (of which I am allergic) and the abandoned psychiatric hospital just down the road. And the sound of hooks on the roofs of cars. A snapping turtle with a shell the size of a manhole cover. And the mobsters. Always had to be careful where you fished.
3 comments:
Is this why you're a (among other things) horror writer?
Interesting. There was a vampire in the town where I attended high school.
He went a little beyond biting necks, unfortunately.
Let's just say, he's not going to be released, ever.
LBB, as I was writing this that is exactly what I was thinking.
Todd, well, this guy was surrounded (as the story goes) on a side street and he up and vanished. Then again, our local police weren't the best at proceedure, so my guess is he just ran away. But yeah, the bitiung necks is enough, going beyond is way out of bounds.
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