“That was only the half of it. Shrouded in darkness and shadow, the woods stood ominously, vast and all encompassing, like a wall barring anything from escaping the small town of Sotherton. A perpetual mist hung in the pines and evergreens that towered there, thick, white and stirring like a fog of ghosts. It was not ghosts the town had to fear. "You forgot to sew her mouth up," the old mortician said, his fright coated with anger. "My God in heaven!" The young apprentice blinked, his face drain...ing of all color. He had forgotten, forgotten the most important thing he'd been taught about being a mortician in Sotherton. "I told you, over and over." The old mortician leapt from the table, a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. "We've got to get downstairs, now!" Miles outside in the darkened woods the mist did stir, glowing with a bizarre radiance as a single stream of it zipped from the rest and vanished into the night air. Reappearing in front of the funeral home, the stream of mist slipped through a crevice in the foundation, gaining entry to the house of the dead.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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