Steeped in shadow, darkness echoed and folded inside itself until sunlight was absorbed completely, and the trees, large mammoths of green foliage bunched over, bent and stopped, pouring more exhaunerating shadows across the hallows of what used to be the most prestigious house in Anderson.

Dead trees with branches, long and spindly, waved in the air, veining like capillaries; the bark flaked off in spots, diseased with a forging moss that stewed for years and ate its way into the tree’s innards, killing from the inside out. Brown crispy leaves littered the yard and danced macabre on light feet, and they smelled of fungus and autumnal-moisture, waiting for a sunlight to dry up its ravaged and rotted being.