Sunny Vuong reads an excerpt from "Silent Blooms: A Cottagecore Horror Pick Your Own Adventure", forthcoming in Wrongdoing's first issue
When the sun sets and paints the sky into a dulcet pink, the hue is a bit off. Just by a fraction, you think, so miniscule that you might be making too much of it. But the sky looks like itâs melting into an unnatural wax, and the cicadasâtheyâre loud. Theyâre *always* loud anywhere, but at night, you think maybe youâre just imagining it when their song sounds just a pitch higher than it should.
The locals donât say anything when you ask. They smile good naturedly, and ask if the deer are giving you any trouble. The deer do get a bit territorial this time of year, yes. Tourists have problems with them. You decide itâs better not to mention that youâve never seen them eating grass.
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