“The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.”

“It’s not the dead even. They’re gone. Nothing you can do about that. It’s what’s left behind – the echo. These woods you’re walking through. There are some old timers who think a sound echoes here forever. Makes sense when you think about it. That Billingham kid. I’m sure he screamed. He screams, it echoes, just bounces back and forth, the sound getting smaller and smaller, but never entirely disappearing. Like a part of his is still calling out, even now.”