Sunday, January 17, 2016

100 Words a Day 770

There was no clearing denoting the presence of the old plantation home. It was as though it had been simply plopped down in midst of the jungle, which had long ago absorbed the plantation the house used to rule over. Jungle trees had punched through the roof, throwing their shade over the decaying remains the island’s late lordly class. It looked ruined, but undisturbed.

I let out a satisfied sigh and turned to James. “We made it friend. And look, there’s no way anyone’s been here for years. The rumors must be true.”

“Rumors about the treasure, or the curse?”

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