u/SeargentCortes

Hello!

I’m the author for ‘The Maw Beneath The Mane.’

A southern gothic thriller that includes depression, alligators, and violence!

If you want a free code just comment below! 7 UK codes left and 1 US.

I just ask you write an honest review when done.

Thanks all!

Would you keep reading? What is bothersome to you as a reader?

Chapter 1: Flesh No More

Sometimes I can see faces in the soot. A quick wink, a smirk, and then the shadow disappears. Some people can look at clouds and see different objects. Unfortunately, I don’t spend much time outdoors.

Ever since my mother passed, the darkness has felt less like a lack of light and more like a presence. A heavy weight that knows my name. I try my best to keep this place well lit, but the bulb’s hum is a fragile defense. Between the bulb and the flames, there are always a few lumens holding on.

Being a cremation director is not for the weak. Dead bodies arrive in abundance; the fee is just enough to pay the bills. I’m a one-woman operation. It’s been that way since Ma left me the place. I never knew my father. 

I leaned against the cold steel of the staging table, watching the digital readout. 1,000 degrees. 1,200 degrees. The temperature rose steadily until it peaked at 1,800. The heat was a living thing, radiating through the brick and steel, yet I was shivering.

My building was small. I had a front office where I could meet families. In the back, I had a single furnace. Beyond, the back room served as a silent waiting area. It wasn't for families; it was for the inventory of the departed. 

Stacks of cardboard containers were piled high against the concrete blocks, an architecture of the end. The refrigeration unit hummed a low, continuous note, keeping the back room just chilly enough to halt any decay.

Most were marked with names scrawled in thick, black marker: Marin, Rodriguez, Thomas. Others were just numbers provided by the state. An abundance of names and letters that looked like a secret military code. It was a wall of brown boxes waiting for their turn in the heat. It was the only part of the business that felt industrial, a stark reminder that even death had a queue.

I’ve always been struck by the names we give towns out here compared to the reality of the landscape. I put some of that irony into a paragraph for my book, but I’m curious if I missed any obvious ones.

>"We drove through Mount Vernon, but there were no mountains. We drove through Republic, where the Constitution looked tired. We drove through Phillipsburg, and there was not a single man in sight. We drove past Marshfield, barren of any marshes. North of us was Roseland, but the thorns outnumbered the blossoms. We drove past Richland, but not every person was draped in gold. We drove past St. Robert, where the Devil’s Elbow lurked just east. We drove past Ha Ha Tonka, its springs still and mournful, like they remembered the fires that scarred the land."

Also I wanted to add something about Tightwad, but couldn't think of anything appropriate.

Can you think of any other towns that have a bit of irony to them?

Hello,

I am JRJ Sellmeyer. The author of The Maw Beneath The Mane. Narrated by Marvin Abrego. If you like Southern Gothic, the Ozarks, mythology, or road novels, this is for you! Feel free to comment below and I'll send you a code. Thanks all!