The thicket around you is eerily silent, but the stream babbles on. The moss on the stones that line the creek are vibrantly green and full of life, a...subtle contrast against the dense wood around you, a faded, dark-verdant color, tinged with the black of decay. As you follow the winding brook through the foliage, silently stepping from stone to stone, something in your mind lazily stirs. You cannot stop moving forward, and as you peer ahead, it seems to be daylight, but looking to the side. "He's in the bed. He died there, the way most people did. I can't be certain that it's your son. Do you want to go in?" Yes."I led her back into the house and directly into the room. A cross-draft was moving fresh air into the room through one of the open windows. The boy looked undisturbed by death."It's Gerry," she said. She moved closer to the bed, as if to kiss him, but I pulled her away. "Don't disturb him," I said. "It's better to leave him as he is." Will you close the windows, before we. More

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