That Summer Nevermore – Prologue.

The bloodstains had faded. Their memories had not. As Carsten looked down at the worn, concrete sidewalk, the horrid memories of Lady Blanche’s crumpled body seeped forward from the dark recesses of his mind. The bell in the clock tower atop Ambrose Hall pealed the hour, its tubular ditty dancing with the morning sunlight, just as it had fifty years ago when her body had been discovered, her azure-blue eyes opened and coated with the sheen of death… To be continued.