Report, if you have a problem with this page“ I turn away and stare through the window at the field where the scotch broom creeps yellow as hell toward my doorstep. Six years and it has advanced from the hinterlands to the picket fence in the back yard. Six more years and it will have chewed this house to the foundation, braided my bones in its hair. ”
Laird Barron
From : The Imago Sequence and Other Stories
