Smoke and Stack Moore

The Mississippi sky bled a bruised purple as Smoke and Stack coasted into Minden. The familiar scent of damp earth and pine needles hit them, a stark contrast to the grit and exhaust fumes of Chicago they’d just left behind. Minden. A place they’d sworn they’d never return to, a place that held as many ghosts as it did memories. "Feels... smaller than I remember," Smoke said, his voice a low rumble that mirrored the engine of their beat-up pickup. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

Stack, ever the optimist, grinned. "That's 'cause we got bigger, Smoke. We ain't those scared little boys anymore." He slapped his brother on the shoulder. "New beginning, right? Juke joint, live music, good times. Just like we talked bout’." They pulled up to what was left of the old Minden Sawmill. It was a skeleton of its former self, the wood weathered and grey, windows broken and gaping like missing teeth.

A rusted sign, barely legible, still clung to the warped siding: "Minden Lumber Company." "This is... it?" Smoke asked, his initial enthusiasm ebbing. "Charm potential," Stack countered, hopping out. "Think of the acoustics! The history!" He spread his arms wide, embracing the dilapidated scene. "We can call it 'Rusty Nail.' Got a ring to it, don't ya think?" Stack’s grin widened as he turned to his brother who followed him out of the car.

“It’s going to be a hit.” Stack added as he hummed afterwards. Smoke took a long drag out of his cigarette, letting out the puff of smoke. “We better get to work then.” Smoke said, taking another long drag out of his cigarette. Both of them walking closer to the Old Sawmill. “Well isn’t it the Moore twins.” A voice said behind the two. The Southern drawl broke the silence between the two. Smoke turned around first, while Stack followed suit. “Look what we have here. Been a long time since we saw ya.” Smoke spoke, letting out the smoke after taking into the substance.