Till that day in the summer of 1960, no one outside the county had even heard of our town a Oscar. This town’s about as plain as a white wall. Spectacular things are not why people move here, if they move here at all. People are born here, go to church here, get married here, and then die here. Like the winds off the prairie west of the valley, like the river, events pass through Oscar like gossip. We’re churchgoers. Grateful. Virtuous. I don’t know of a single one who asks for moren they need. So it’s not melodramatic to say when them horrors started takin place a ripple of terror ran through here. No one really believes in ghosts, but that’s what it felt like. Like there was ghosts a-hauntin.