A dark, stormy night. The sky was moonless and cloudy. The cliffs battered by the endless waves and wind and rain. Nearby, a small lighthouse shone with a glistening light like a sword slicing through the dark fabric of a soldier.
An engine roared. In the distance there lays a small village. No one knew where it was, but then again, no one wanted to. Even the residents seemed to be fed up with it. The village was left to rot. The little broken-down cottages creaked with age, yet the the church was in pristine condition. The perfect disguise for a horrible secret.
The engine roared again as the vehicle drove across the Main Street. Usually, the residents don't own cars. The only ones that did were the farmer and his family and an old man. The old man who was driving a jeep across the A2100.
The old man with no body.
YOU ARE READING
The Thin Wall
ParanormalA thin wall exists between the living and the dead... for now
