A Feast Of Souls: A Dark Paranormal Romance

The parlor room was a suffocating shroud of grief, the air thick with the scent of lilies and unspoken sorrow. Mama’s hand, usually so warm and comforting, trembled slightly as I clung to it, her eyes distant and shadowed.

My gaze drifted, seeking escape from the mournful faces, from the sight of Grand-Papa Rampton, still and cold in his casket. I remembered him vibrant, laughing, a man whose presence filled a room with light.

Then, a stir at the door. A tall, dark figure entered, drawing an immediate, palpable recoil from everyone present. He was a stranger, yet his presence felt profoundly wrong, a discordant note in the solemn melody of mourning. Behind him, a boy, small and terrified, clutching a Bible like a shield.

My mother’s whispered warning, a chilling breath against my ear, still echoed:

“Don’t look, Lillian. Never look in the eyes of a Sin-Eater, for you will be as cursed as he is and will forever languish in darkness.”

But my eyes, rebellious and curious, found the boy, then the man bending over Grand-Papa, his mouth opening. And then, the black smoke, tendrils snaking from the deceased, consumed. A cold, intrusive whisper filled my mind, and the world dissolved into darkness.