**Title: The Dead Man's Tale**

The small town of Hallow Creek had always been quiet, the kind of place where everyone knew each other's name, and secrets were buried just beneath the surface. It was one of those crisp autumn evenings, the last few patrons still lingering in the dimly lit bar, when a stranger walked in.

Tall, an unshaven face with whiplash marks of time and toughness on it, his coat worn thin; eyes, sharp but so empty, their implication was that of observation of too much. He sat alone at the bar and the bartender-an older man, slow of gaze, knowing-asked nothing of his drink order. The stranger wasn't here for conversation.

But conversation came anyway.

Blake was one of those boys whose curiosity often got the better of him. He walked over to the two. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

The stranger studied him with unreadable eyes before giving a slight nod. "Name's James."

Blake introduced himself, but James didn't seem to be in for small talk. He stared into his glass, swirling the amber liquid, as if therein lay the insight into the past.

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Blake couldn't help himself. "So, what brings you to Hallow Creek?"

James took a deep breath. "I didn't come here. I never left," he said ambiguously.

Blake blinked. "What are you talking about?"

A grim smile curled upon James' lips. "I'm dead."

The words hung in the air like an accusation. Blake's stomach churned, his mind racing, wondering whether this man was mad or something worse.

"You don't look dead," Blake said with a slight shakiness in his tone.

"I don't feel dead either," James said, "but I am. And I have a story to tell—a tale no one else can."

He leaned in further, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "It's about a town called Evershade. A place that no longer exists. It was damned. The ground, the people, they all had been enslaved. The taint fed off them, and it kept them right there, feasting until nothing remained.

Blake's breath hitched in his throat. "And you.?"

James's gaze went faraway. "I died there. But the curse didn't let me go. I'm not the only one, but I'm the last. Evershade devours everything, and when it's done, it moves on."

Blake's brain raced to follow the story. "So why are you telling me this?

Because I'm warning you," James said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You think you're safe here, but the curse doesn't forget. It doesn't stop. And it's still hungry."

The room felt colder. Blake's throat tightened as he searched for words. "How do you know all this?"

James smirked bitterly. "Because dead men tell the best tales.

The bar fell silent, and when Blake blinked, the stranger was gone—vanished, as if he had never been there at all.

Blake sat frozen, the weight of James' words weighing on him. And deep in his heart, a sickening thought took root: perhaps Evershade wasn't just a story. It was a warning. And it wasn't finished yet.

**The End**