Memories are like ghosts. They linger in doorways, whisper with the howling wind when lightning strikes. They are the dark phantoms of my youth. My mind buried my memories for good reason, and I spent forty years believing I could escape them.
Until with one phone call, I found myself in my childhood home: Hardacre Priory.
I knew from the first step through the door that it was all over. The forgotten events of 1979 leapt to the surface and screamed their truths. Everything I thought to be true was a lie.
Entering those halls was an open invitation...
Not for me, but for every ill wish, vengeful thought, and dark deed that ever existed.
