Bumper Crop
Old Gods of Appalachia
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Ada's Nightmare
Ada's shift at mavis del reginal was long and exhausting. She'd never quite been able to shake the nervous feeling she'd had about leaving that afternoon. The pumpkin vines had grown even more while she was away. They'd run rampant over the back side of the house and now stretched over the roof and embraced the sides. Windows had cracked under the onslaught, and the back door was blocked again. Ada could easily hear that creaking, rustling sound as the vine stretched ever reaching for more. But it was a quarter to three, and she'd be late if she didn't leave now. So she set the plump siamese down on the floor, gave him
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