I remembered my ride past the graveyard with Pauline this morning. I had known. Fear had seized me. Something was wrong. Something was hopelessly and irretrievably wrong. My flesh had crawled. Warning breezes. A candle. A prayer. A hope. An icy whisper. A cold clawed hand on my neck. I hadn’t understood what it had meant, but I had known.

-Mary E. Pearson

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