Eighteen Months Later.
London's infamous smog fell over this specific cemetery to make it appear as the perfect premise for a haunting tale of a phantom ghost. But through the smoke had appeared an emotionally drained young woman whose fingers had been harboring a child against her bosom, the infant's head asleep upon her shoulder. With tears in her eyes, the woman dressed customarily in black to show she had been mourning, dipped her knees low until they collided to the damp ground beneath her. Worrying little to nothing for the stain that would be present upon her legs, she took her free hand to the stone beneath her and allowed her fingers to fall gracefully over the protruding letters of the Goodhille family tombstone.
To society, the Goodhille family had succumb to an endless amou
