I was raised in the languorous swamplands of southern Louisiana, where my imagination germinated under layers of local superstition and voodoo culture. I was warned to never follow the dancing Feu Follet, for to chase the fairy light was to become forever lost. I watched the dancing swamp lights as they ever beckoned me to join their dance, but I never did, heeding the warnings of my elders.

In time I turned away from the fairy fire and tales of spooks and magic, so as to follow the desperate lies of wealth and security that responsible citizens are encouraged to believe in. Decades later, the realization crept over me that I had become lost anyway. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I looked over my shoulder to see that the Feu Follet had followed me, waiting patiently for my awakening.

I reside with my wife Janet and a menagerie of critters. Despite such creature comforts my hours are spent, pen in hand, chasing the Feu Follet through the dark swamps and childhood superstitions that burn in my mind like a fever dream.

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