Chapter 15
The old church that sat at one end of the Gypsy Reef promenade was little more than a pile of old stones. The setting was quaint, an antithesis to its surroundings, and yet it seemed to blend into the natural setting, almost as if it had been there first and nature had molded the seashore around it. The bell tower rose high in the sky, and on a windy night the distant toll could be heard for miles. It was a hollow, lonely sound that unleashed the graveyard ghosts on a chilly night.
While the bell played its haunting lullaby, a lone figure darted across the deserted graveyard, getting lost in the early morning shadows that stretched long and wide over the worn paths between the graves. He might have been mistaken for a graveyard ghost except for the breath of life that escaped
