Lake Lewisia #953

[scrubjayspeaks]

Is there a lie that you are tired of telling, sick of crafting and holding up with your own hands, but you don't know how to let it go, now that you've allowed other things to grow up around it? The abandoned well at the end of Foxglove Lane is always hungry and it specializes in eating falsehoods, lies, and fibs that are spoken one final time into its column of dark and damp. Please, only outright lies: half-truths and artful misdirection are the equivalents of diet food for the abandoned well, and no one wants to subsist on that.

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LL#953