Seeing the three names on the grave stone reminded Izzy of the flower she carried. Today was June 7. Carefully she set the flower on the patch of ground. “I don’t know if you’re even in there, Damien. But happy seventeenth birthday anyway. I hope that somewhere there’s a celebration for you. And I hope that you’re at peace with your father and mother.” And then there was an unmistakable noise behind her. She turned quickly to see a stranger. He was young enough to be a teenager, but he was thin and sickly and his clothes and hair were drenched from the rain. His face was almost frightening…
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