The Tree Which Owns Itself ~ Part One

A Southern gothic-esque short story, for those who may (or may not) believe in ghosts.

It wasn’t much to look at, if Jules was being honest. 

He gave the twisted, crooked oak tree an appraising once-over. “They really hang people here?”
​
“Yup,” Seneca confirmed. “Every summer ‘n winter, for as long as my daddy and his daddy and even ‘afore that can remember.”

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