‘A storm was moving into the valley now and the rain had begun to fall and the wind sang down through the vines and he listened for what the house could say to him. So many had claimed that this valley spoke to them and maybe it has spoken to me too but I don’t need a maybe right now. I need an answer and I need to know if she is here somewhere. He kept asking his questions and hoping for answers and then the voices of the valley came in a chorus of wind and rain and he raised his hands and pressed them flat against the stick figure. Dropped his head and closed his eyes and the house spoke.’
Blackwood, Michael Farris Smith
Absence Club 