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Chapter 1
The Sordonic Tale
I remember the old town of Dornsdale, it was peculiar, the folks were peculiar.
Dornsdale was a dilapidated rust bucket of a town, it was the old part of greater Burkwood County, don't get me wrong, the place had great character in it's Heyday. I wouldn't call it a route 66 type of destination, but rather an off road over night type of place.
Now though... it's a mere shadow of what it once was, the kind of shadow that you'd see lurking in the hallway with the intent of grabbing and swallowing you whole. That is Dornsdale to a T.
I used to go to Burkwood a lot back in my twenties, that was a good 10 years ago... but now I feel the town calling back to me in a faded echo... I know something bad is about to happen, and I'll be smack dab in the middle of it... what more can you expect from a such a strange career path, I mean the one I chose... honestly, I should have listened to my mother and become an accountant, but no, Robert J Palmer decided he wants to live a life of adventure and become a brand of his very own. Nope not a cop, not a firefighter... let me explain it this way, ever wake up in a cold sweat from a sound in your basement?
You know, that pitch black one you hardly ever go down in because your aunt Frida decided that the foundation of your house would be a good place to bury her son? Well I'm that idiot you call when you are too afraid to go look yourself.
Now you might be asking, why the heck would a guy that hates the paranormal, head into a field that demands him to delve into that type of garbage? Honestly, I ask myself the same question every day, but my dad's side of the family was always a bit... weird, and that's where aunt Frida came with the wild theory that I have some kind of gift... blah blah blah exposition, bottom line, I'm here, and I am unhappy, and to tell you the truth... quite terrified.
© A G Blake
The Sordonic Tale
I remember the old town of Dornsdale, it was peculiar, the folks were peculiar.
Dornsdale was a dilapidated rust bucket of a town, it was the old part of greater Burkwood County, don't get me wrong, the place had great character in it's Heyday. I wouldn't call it a route 66 type of destination, but rather an off road over night type of place.
Now though... it's a mere shadow of what it once was, the kind of shadow that you'd see lurking in the hallway with the intent of grabbing and swallowing you whole. That is Dornsdale to a T.
I used to go to Burkwood a lot back in my twenties, that was a good 10 years ago... but now I feel the town calling back to me in a faded echo... I know something bad is about to happen, and I'll be smack dab in the middle of it... what more can you expect from a such a strange career path, I mean the one I chose... honestly, I should have listened to my mother and become an accountant, but no, Robert J Palmer decided he wants to live a life of adventure and become a brand of his very own. Nope not a cop, not a firefighter... let me explain it this way, ever wake up in a cold sweat from a sound in your basement?
You know, that pitch black one you hardly ever go down in because your aunt Frida decided that the foundation of your house would be a good place to bury her son? Well I'm that idiot you call when you are too afraid to go look yourself.
Now you might be asking, why the heck would a guy that hates the paranormal, head into a field that demands him to delve into that type of garbage? Honestly, I ask myself the same question every day, but my dad's side of the family was always a bit... weird, and that's where aunt Frida came with the wild theory that I have some kind of gift... blah blah blah exposition, bottom line, I'm here, and I am unhappy, and to tell you the truth... quite terrified.
© A G Blake
