I Was Burying My Wife When a Child Appeared in the Rain and Whispered: “She’s Not in That Grave, She’s Waiting for You.”
Chapter 1: The Hollow Earth The priest’s voice was a drone, a monotonous buzz competing with the sound of the rain hitting the black umbrellas. It was a cold, typically miserable November afternoon in Washington State. The kind of day where the dampness doesn’t just sit on your skin; it works its way into your…