October 31st, 1940
The evening winds gusted and stung colder than blue. It was unusual for a Halloween night – especially in the tiny, nearly-forgotten town of Now, Indiana. The sun had set just moments ago, and the sky was still threatening light, blending hues of ye...
<p>October 31st, 1940</p>
<p>The evening winds gusted and stung colder than blue. It was unusual for a Halloween night – especially in the tiny, nearly-forgotten town of Now, Indiana. The sun had set just moments ago, and the sky was still threatening light, blending hues of yellow, copper, and red.</p>
<p>A sizable, weathered structure stood rebellious against the impending season. Above the entrance, a sign read, “Antiques by Lora.” As the horizon quickly faded to darkness, a battered door on rusted hinges burst open with a <i>bang! </i>and slammed into an antique sideboard. The winds whipped with a force that pushed the fatigued man who emerged through the doorway of the shop with little effort of his own. He was weary.</p>
<p>A full-figured woman with shiny blonde hair jumped up from her chair, startled by the man’s dramatic entrance. She called out as she rushed toward him, “Oh, my! Good heavens, are you all right, sir?” The man clung to a coat rack for balance while he caught his breath.</p>
<p>“Yes. Yes, I think so. It’s those bone-chilling winds... so unusual this time of the year.”</p>
<p>“I have some hot cider, let me get some for you. Why don’t you take a comfortable seat for a few minutes?” She pointed to an overstuffed, velvet chair as she padded across the shop. “I’m Lora!” she called from the far end of the quaint, eclectic interior while filling a teacup with spiced cider. The old shop was once a barn, converted by her father as a birthday gift decades ago. It was stocked full of time’s treasures with a bit of junk in the mix – so much, so, that it was difficult to navigate.</p>
<p>“My memory serves me well, but I don’t recall seeing you in the shop before. What’s your name, if I may ask?” She carried the steaming cup back to where he was sitting.</p>
<p>“Thank you for your kindness,” he replied when she offered the cup and mismatched saucer. He took a testing sip and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. “My name is Troy Price.” He perked up, feeling a bit stronger.</p>
<p>“Price. Hmm... yes, I know that name. Didn’t your family live up on Sander Hill?”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s right.”...