He pulled to a stop at the Edenton harbor. The wind blew gentle over his skin, the waves rolled across the shoreline in hushed tones, and the sky stared down in a blanket of security. Lifting his gaze toward a whole new universe, and then lowering it to the vast expanse of the ocean, he tried to imagine the harbor when the first English colonists had set foot in the Albermarle region. He imagined a ship sailing across the sound, a black shadow against the night, stopping at the Dram Tree to place a bottle of Jamaican rum in the hollow place in the trunk. Sailors leaving for foreign would stop at the tree and all hands would drink to a safe voyage. From: The Ghosts of Daemon Yarborough. On sale now for $1.98! synergebooks/ebook_ghostsofdaemonyarborough.html
Posted on: Thu, 01 Aug 2013 01:48:24 +0000
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