excerpt

So now, when Jack tried to find something to counter the wild voices speaking to him, it was this image of his grandmother, baking cookies for him on a hot summers day. Her aura flickering in and out of his perception, the empty bottle of rum the only tangible proof of what he had seen of his grandmother’s ceremony. It was this image that Jack focused on to try and counter the wild energy coming from the very air he breathed. Almost immediately sleep overwhelmed him and he found himself beside his grandmother’s grave – her in that long ago outfit, munching on a cookie.