|“Nightmares are commonplace in my profession…”
Alone in a crumbling manor, an aging undertaker recounts a horrifying episode from the early days of his career.
When an unspeakable monster trespasses the border between life and death, the undertaker finds himself in a fierce struggle to save the village he has sworn to serve — even if it means sacrificing his own family and faith in the process.
From the reviews…
“Camp’s storytelling is at times reminiscent of the great macabre masters such as Poe, creating a mythology that is both philosophically engaging and original. This book is a poetic outlier, and transcends many of the trite conventions found in so many of its contemporary monster or horror genre counterparts with deeper themes including explorations of love, faith, and alienation.”
“This story is more haunting, and I have many questions for the author that I hope will be answered in later books. The idea of solitude in a small town is not completely lost on me, and the fact of this story taking place in the past, perhaps the far past, is something that really draws my attention. Hooray for T.M. Camp! Please write more for us to read and listen to.”
“Told in the first person, it hints and suggests the evil to come, letting you gather the evidence for the ending of the tale. I thought this well written. Mr. Camp is able to evoke good pictures in your mind with his words. The story and the characters were intriguing.”
“I’m highly impressed with the writing… You can see that he has a confidence in his own writing… I would read another book by this author without question. The level is very high.”
This is a true story.
One afternoon this past summer, my 19-year-old son was walking down the middle of the street in a neighborhood here in our town.
A car pulled up behind him.
My son did not move out of the road, just kept walking.
After a moment the driver honked his horn.
Without turning around, without missing a beat, my son flipped the bird over his shoulder and kept walking.
I have no doubt that, had the car behind him been a police car, my son would’ve had a pretty uncomfortable afternoon after that.
I also have no doubt that my son would not have been arrested, let alone shot.
Because my son is white.
As the news comes in from Ferguson that a grand jury has declined to indict Darren Wilson for the murder of Michael Brown, I am reminded that context is everything.
And I am profoundly dejected.