Chapter 3 Crank Calls and KKK Crosses

by Miranda Brumbaugh in , ,


When the white hoods walked in, the overhanging fluorescent bulbs buzzed flamboyant. Cocksure in their coverings. Concealed completely, no one could make out enough to identify these community members outright. 

Whispers, nudges, grins, and nods coursed through the crowd like salt sinking in white rice. Even if someone knew someone was a clansmen for certain, they would never tell it.

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