An undertaker meets a dead woman who is more alive than most of the living.

A (mostly) illustrated story involving a very mysterious murder, ghostly romance and spirits possessing --- the dead?

Let's not worry ourselves with the details. This is Blackwood, after all.

UPDATE 11/9/19: Housekeeping and an added Bonus Update Epilogue. All your questions will be answered in time. Enjoy!

UPDATE 3/13/20: New, better art (finally!) The original art looked like it was hastily drawn in twenty minutes as if I was completely over this story by the time for illustrations came. (You all can tell me when my art sucks, sheesh!) Enjoy!

The Gods discover a soul thief among humans.

A story about an ethereal romance and an otherworldly mystery.

Entrant and winner of EndMaster's IS "Resurrection" Contest!

No, I'm afraid just a Frank. :~P

"I think I'll buy a boat with an indoor garden and sail far away from here," mused Kelley Brambilla.

Kelley Brambilla awoke with a large bruise on her forehead.

But it was not from any drunken shenanigans during the night. She had chosen not to partake in any of the singing or dancing or eating at all, rather chose to retreat to her garden, to at least escape the uncomfortable advances of Martha the Baker. (But more importantly, figure out who the damn vampire is.)

Hells, Kelley had thought, if I'm going to die it might as well be in the place that brings me the most comfort.

And now this, while Jon would be less-than favorably remembered, was so obviously a ploy by the vampire! No matter the fact Martha had probably slept with the vampire by now anyway.

But that was not the most upsetting part. Of all the folks the vampire could have framed, why did he chose the person so obviously not the vampire? Was it clever reverse psychology?

Probably not.

Kelley was visibly frustrated. The tips of her ears turned red, but she took a breath and loomed in the corner, but loomed with a vengeance.

"I agree."

Vote: Iva Pringle

"At least men can still bear to look at me," Kelley spoke beneath her breath.

"You seem to take a worrisome amount of delight in throwing folks in cages, and locking them in stocks."

"With all due respect, Goody Briar," piped up Kelley Brambilla, with folded arms and a dark expression. "I think it is suspicious all its own that you were seemingly unconscious last night, and there were no killings."

"It seems we have witches running about as well," Kelley muttered.

"I concur," stated Kelley Brambilla from the shadows. Although she lurked about not in any suspicious manner of course, listening to the conversations of the eccentric townsfolk.

"That way, if one of them dies we will know for certain the other is the vampire. And with none of our own moral repercussions. Well, mostly none."

Kelley Brambilla, widow, artist and gardener pruned flowers in her garden.