Wild Oranges

The opening of the story drops us onto a silent bay where the sea mirrors the sky, and the old‑world elegance of a ketch glides to rest. Captain John Woolfolk, tired yet alert, watches his crew secure the vessel while the surrounding cypress shadows stretch like ancient fingers. The air is heavy with the perfume of oleanders and orange blossoms, a reminder that even forgotten places can hold a sudden bloom. As night deepens, a crumbling colonial house looms from the foliage, its broken windows staring like the eyes of a long‑dead mansion.

Intrigued, Woolfolk explores the ruin, noting the clash between decayed grandeur and the relentless tide that once made the port thrive. A sudden, graceful silhouette moves beneath the water’s surface, stirring questions about what else hides in the calm. The novel balances vivid sensory detail with a slow‑burning sense of unease, inviting listeners to drift deeper into a world where history, nature, and a touch of the uncanny converge.