Herein lies a story of gentle, deep, passionate, and neverending love. Herein lies a love strong enough to transcend lifetimes. Herein lies the love of dreams and of nightmares. Herein lies the love of a woman for a man.

Art is the language of the soul. Music is the voice. A story of life and loss in the early American South. -- This story is my own, featuring highs and lows. But I am unable to write the hard parts until I am able to treat them with the respect they deserve. Pending.

What felt like a nightmare appeared to be reality - a strange and warped version of it. When David Gibbs takes a day trip to the local forest preserve he finds himself haunted by something sinister.

If loneliness were a place, it would be the brick house on the hill. The two-story building is surrounded by trees so no living being can look inside. No living being wants to, anyway. People prefer to look up safely from downhill and whisper to each other about what could possibly be up there. Some like to speculate about dead bodies, left by a prolific serial killer who may or may not have killed his own offspring. Others prefer the theories about Victorian ghosts whose lives have been cut short by a plague of some sort. But none of them dare to take a look. But Anne Foley doesn't feel she has a choice. If there are dead bodies or skeletons in the closet, she is determined to find them. Story will be around 3000 words in the end! Thanks for reading! Cool ratings: #101 in scarystories

Gregory James Martin is a man that has it all, except for immortality...