It was cold when Chan stepped off the train, suitcase in his hand, looking out at the silent seaside streets. It was a far cry from New York's busy atmosphere, where he had to squeeze through crowds and elbow his way past people in order to get to work on time. New York was full of life and soul, all the stores open past midnight for inevitable party goers. In Everglade Harbour, everything was shut by five o'clock and hardly anyone went out at night.

He'd got in late, so the little pie shop on the platform was already closed, but it didn't matter to him.  All he wanted to do was settle himself down in the house he'd inherited, as rickety and old as it'd be. It would be a warm reprieve from the cold, and somewhere to collect his thoughts.

He had forgotten how narrow the streets were, how easily navigable the town was. All roads lead down to the little seaside, to the beach with it's pebbles instead of sand and its freezing cold water. He didn't want to be back in this town -- the town that rarely saw summer and was known for the bitter winds cascading off the waves.

He turned down a side street, his suitcase bumping loudly over the cobblestones. The street was lined with old houses, each with a street lamp out front,  casting an eerie glow across the road. The last house on the street would be where Chan was living.

He fumbled in his pocket for the keys, jamming them in the front door with shaking hands. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't been back there for years, perhaps it was the darkness of the street outside and the late hour he'd arrived at.  He pushed the door open with his free hand, feeling for the light switch on the way in.

The inside of the house was dim, even with the light on, though the moonlight shone a path through into the kitchen. He dumped his suitcase by the kitchen island, too tired from his trip to think about unpacking it yet. That was tomorrow's job.

An envelope sat on the kitchen island and Chan snatched it up, tearing it open with his thumbnail.

Dear Chan,

I hope you found the house all right. I know you weren't thrilled about the idea of moving back, but I am glad that you accepted. I didn't want the house to go to market, I wanted it to stay in the family. You'll be welcomed here, nobody will give you any trouble. You can find work at the mortuary , they'll be expecting you.

Things in this town aren't always what they seem. Keep your eye out, don't trust what you might see in the dark.

Love, Uncle Vernon.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

THIS IS: BURIAL RITES.