It was the kind of place where if the walls started to weep blood, nobody would bat an eyelid. The kind of place you hope you'll only ever read about. The kind of place she found herself driving towards in the slim hope that someone or something in there might be able to get rid of the haint that had already killed her siblings.
They'd all been involved in the child's death but they were all children at the time, scarcely out of school and messing around a half frozen river with their friends. Nine of them had gone out to play and only eight returned with their missing friend returning to take them all back with him some twenty years later.
From what she could find in the brief moments of peaceful research she'd managed, his bones had been found. Instead of burying them the police had confiscated them as "evidence" and ever since, the kid's restless soul had gradually corrupted into a malicious haint that sought to bring all of the "witnesses" into death with him.
She wasn't the last one left, no there were still three others much closer to home than she was, but she was the only one who'd known about the haint and got out before he set his sights on her. Now she was heading to a godforsaken nightmare of a village known only as Gristlehill Upon Stour to find someone known only as Nana.
If the haint don't find her first, she might just survive this long enough to see his bones buried.
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