The Letter From Beyond

The spring air carried the scent of newly bloomed daisies, a stark contrast to the lingering chill of frost that had only recently vanished. You stood with your mother, Scarlet, beside your father's gravestone, untouched by time and weather, a testament to the love that still bound your mother to him, even after thirty long years.

Dark clouds began to gather overhead, stealing the sun's warmth and silencing the birds' cheerful songs. Your mother, after a whispered farewell to your father, seemed to feel a strange, internal draft, a sensation she kept hidden, adding to the town's gossip about the 'grieving widow.'

Back at the farmhouse, the familiar, somber presence of your father's old Chrysler Newport greeted you. Inside, surrounded by the memorabilia of a life lived and lost, you gazed at your reflection, seeing the gray hairs and the signs of aging. Your mother's health was declining, her sporadic nosebleeds and crippling headaches a constant source of worry. You urged her to see a doctor, but she refused, clinging to the past and the belief that your father's presence was still with them.

The horses in the barn had been spooked for a week, their distress calls echoing through the nights. Your mother suspected Henson's dogs, a recurring problem, and asked you to investigate. Armed with your pistol, a necessary precaution on your own property, you ventured towards the barn, the sinister structure looming in the twilight. As you approached, you felt a strange lifelessness, your boot imprints vanishing instantly. Rocket, your mare, was kicking the barn wall in distress, and as you opened the stable, two black German shepherds bolted out. You fired your pistol, scaring them away, but a nagging question remained: why did they keep coming back?