This story was originally written as part of NaNoWriMo 2015. To read the complete story, go to the MISCELLANY section of this website.
Jack Lightning felt the mists of morning against his pale skin. He was sneaking through the swamp in what should have been a messy business, but Jack loved the muck. He’d just stolen a pair of tall leather boots, tough as seal-skin, black as tar, so it was a pleasure to let them slosh in the inky mire. And the swamp was the shortest way. Jack always loved a short cut.