I want to thank my mother, in more ways than one. From an early age, she introduced me to the beauty that horror can offer, the stark cruelty of Quiroga and the insistent violence of Poe, feeding what has become an obsession with what awaits full darkness. She also knew I’d be a writer, even before I did, buying me notebooks “just in case” and setting up writing areas for me that I didn’t know what to do with . . . until I did. Her efforts and support have earned her hours of listening to me work through plot knots, pacing concerns, I-don’t-have-a-title woes, and so much more. #SorryNotSorry.
I also want to thank my sister, for her unwavering, pom-pom shaking support despite being an absolute wimp when it comes to all things horror.
Thanks to my dad for all his work bringing our mill back to habitable conditions. If I need electricity to power my laptop in the middle of the forest, I know you’ll rig something up.
A big thanks to Mauro Molinari for always being there to help.
Another huge thanks to Helga for her sharp eye, and Bill and Sue for believing in the novel. I am forever grateful to the entire CamCat team.
Edur, thank you for the company throughout that long winter. If I try outdoor writing again in minus-degree weather, a horn to the solar plexus will likely snap me out of it.
And to my home, the solitary watermill in Molare sitting at the edge of the Bosco del Cavallo. Without you and your oak forest, this book would not exist.