Hello Friends, I got off to a late start, but here I am. I am turning this supernatural short story into a screenplay. I hope to see my stories on the screen. Wish me luck.
Excerpt: The gin mill business was owned by fellow Mutiny descendent, Miles Cook. When I arrived, I found the forty-seven-year old and father of two, bare foot, wringing the necks of his ducks, and cursing like the devil.
“Miles, are ya crazy?” I yelled. He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. He was covered in sweat, feathers, and tears.
“No, I aint crazy, but these damned fowl wuz. They ’bout tore my misses up this mornin’ when she went to gather the eggs. Like they wuz possessed, or somethin‘. I don’t know if‘n birds git rabies, but these‘n aint git‘n a second chance.”