The evil belonged to Jackson, and everyone knew it. It whispered among the winds twisting through the city streets, saturated the Boston ivy roots clinging to the brick façades, and soaked into the flowering dogwoods until the white blooms turned black as night.
Yes, everyone knew it. Every Jackson resident at least. But visitors never seemed to notice the signs of rot and decay that drenched every inch of Jackson as they drove into town. It wouldn’t matter if they did. By the time they reached up to pluck one of the unusual onyx blooms, it was already too late.
**Jackson was written for YeahWrite‘s January 25 Spontaneous Writing Challenge. The prompt: Tell a story in 100 words or fewer using this line from the Southern Gothic Bot, “The evil belonged to Jackson, and everyone knew it.” Join us on Discord for more writing challenges like this!
Arden Ruth 