Backwater Boogeyman (DEEP, DARK SWAMP #3) by Ever Lilac EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ever Lilac
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Mega
I take a deep breath, inhaling the rich, earthy scent of the bayou. My new
home. I’ve always dreamed of living somewhere with character, and this old
house certainly fits the bill. Nestled at the edge of the swamp, it’s the
perfect blend of rustic charm and natural simplicity. I moved in a couple of
days ago, but there are still boxes that need to be unpacked, and the place
isn’t homey enough yet. Fishing out the quilt I bought at a flea market, I
drape it over my worn leather couch and take a step back.
Putting my hands on my hips, I tilt my head to the side.
It actually looks pretty good and it suits the shabby-chic interior. Everything
here is old. The wooden floors creak with every step, telling stories of the
ones who lived here before me. The breeze that sneaks through the slightly
warped window frames carries whiffs of the mysterious swamp. Most
people wouldn’t probably find such an isolated place so comforting, but I
do.
Then again, I’ve always had an edge to me.
Humming to myself, I arrange my books on the shelf, when my phone
buzzes on the coffee table. I glance at it, frowning because I’m not
expecting a call from anyone. It’s been years since I spoke to my family,
and the number is unknown. I hesitate for a moment, then pick it up.
“Hello?” I say, already tense because I don’t like to be caught off guard.
There’s no response. Just silence. Then, I hear it – the sound of breathing.
Slow, deliberate. My heart skips a beat.
“Hello?” I repeat, a little louder this time. My voice wavers, betraying my
unease. ”Can you hear me?”
The breathing continues, and I feel a chill creep up my spine. I clench the
phone tighter, trying to convince myself that it’s probably just a prank call.
Kids playing a joke. Nothing to worry about. But the longer the silence
stretches, the harder it is to hold onto that thought.
“Who am I speaking to?” I demand to know, trying to summon some
courage.
Finally, the breathing stops, replaced by a voice. Low, almost a whisper, but
clear enough to make out every word.
“Do you ever get scared, living in that big, old house all alone?”
My blood turns to ice. I can feel my pulse in my ears, loud and frantic. My
eyes dart around the room, searching for something – anything – that might
explain this. Did someone see me move in? Are they watching me now?
“Who is this?” I ask.
”I would be scared. Shadows always seem bigger when you’re alone.”
”I’m going to hang up now.”
”But we’re just getting started. And I want to keep talking to you. You have
the most beautiful voice,” the caller rasps, his tone smooth and unsettling.
My blood runs cold.
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