I hope you’re warm and safe wherever you are while you read this. We have hit the hard frost, the kind that causes the ground to buckle and twist the roads.
And that same cold has fed into this portion of Dan Tate’s story.
Recently, I had the opportunity to visit an exceptionally old graveyard. It was created in 1754, and there were a great many dead within its stone boundaries. I sat on the wall and peered out over the grave markers, enjoying those curious designs and motifs for which the colonial stonemasons were so adept at. There was a stillness to this place, far beyond the normal quiet caused by a person’s intrusion into nature.
The air was colder among the stones, and on the soft moss were thousands of acorns, untouched by animals.
The dead had claimed this small space, and neither I nor the animals were welcome. This fact was made clear when it felt as though my camera was slapped out of my hand.
I brought my fear with me to Dan’s story, and to the struggle he has within himself and against the dead.
I hope you can feel his struggle.
For the best reading experience, read the Tormented Souls series in the following order:
See you in the shadows,