I was a bystander to this story. I didn’t want to get involved. I watched from the sidelines. I saw. Can you keep a secret?
Somewhere north of Houston, Texas is a small, inconsequential town with the smallest, most inconsequential name.
When most people think of Texas, they immediately think of scorching dry deserts, tumbleweeds, and dry heat. But that’s in west Texas. And that’s a different story all together. This story takes place in southern east Texas, which is situated in the lush, shady reaches of the great piney woods. This story takes place in an outwardly unimportant little town. Looks can be deceiving.
The hustle and bustle of Houston sometimes masks the fact that there are those who still live a slower, a simpler, and a seemingly boring life compared to their city-dwelling counterparts. Though the wet, chilly winters of south east Texas appear to speed things up, the advent of the inescapable humid heat of summer brings life in this small Texas town to a lull. Only the natives here brave the heavy summer heat. Outsiders rely on air conditioning to get them through to the cooling days of fall.
It was in the early summer when this story begins, when the cicadas leave their shells clinging to the bark of trees and stretch their wings. It was that part of summer when the sun sinks behind the horizon and the cicadas begin to sing…
So, I ask again. Can you keep a secret? If not, put aside this story. Throw it away. Burn it. Tell no one what lies between the covers of this book. But if you can keep a secret, proceed with caution. And tell not a soul.
~Belle Whittington, Author