Gaff's Boojie Box

What had once been Alvin David McElveen was starving. Not a single drop of water nor crumb of bread had crossed its rotting gums for forty-seven years, but that was of no concern. It needed true sustenance.

Decades before, it might have spent weeks or months tracing leads of fairy rings and tales of local miracles to find a place to feed. Now it could feel the spells and magic draped in the air. A thousandth part of him recalled a memory of learning that catfish worked similarly.

It had been years since McElveen's mouth had opened.

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