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Bayou Gauche

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Down in the thick black water of Bayou Gauche, where the cypress trees dip their gnarled toes deep into the murk. Secrets linger in the shadows where sunlight never dares to creep. The moon tugs at the sluggish current humming the bayou to sleep as egrets skim low, and mannequins of dark rise in low tides, gripping the cyprss knees of well worn handles, telling the story of the Loup-garou, werewolf. 

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