Everyone in Briar Glen knew the rhyme.
Two go in, and one comes out,
One walks free, the other—shouts.
Down the Hollow, secrets trade,
A soul is kept, a debt is paid.
It was recited in playgrounds, murmured in the wind near the forest edge, scratched onto the desks at Briar Glen Middle School. Parents pretended it was just an old rhyme—something leftover from the town’s mining days, when people ...
