The Blood Dimmed Tide
“He spent wild mornings stumbling over rock pools and under steep cliffs, or in the hinterland of overgrown estates, searching for a new hiding place. He still had his wits about him, whatever people thought, but his mental apparatus had served him poorly. He realised that now. Straightforward military intelligence was useless against the adversary he faced. God might have been of assistance, but he had turned his back on Him, after witnessing the sight of soldiers’ bodies stacked like countless sandbags in the trenches of Verdun and the Somme.
Nevertheless, he had almost cried out in prayer when he first saw the ghostly figure of Rosemary O’Grady, gasping and struggling as if she were drowning in air. From the start, he had tried to rationalise what was happening. The spirits are people like ourselves, a housemaid with the second sight had once told him. Earthbound souls who believe they are still alive, but are condemned to repeat over and over again the painful moments of their death.
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