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Port Canyon
Isolated deep within the wild mountains of Washington State, Port Canyon is very much like most historic towns; cobblestone roadways lined with natural stone-front shops and a rustic clock tower features prominently in the town square. Relatively untouched by modernization, many of its buildings are unchanged since it was first settled in the 1800s. Filled with Victorian castle-like estates, some decorated in a dark gothic style, and completed by brightly light cottages covered in vines. Nothing about Port Canyon is new, less than nothing about it is normal.
Outside of Halloween, you will rarely find visitors roaming the town. New residents are few and far between. Fallon is the first new arrival in recent memory, and she’s never heard the tales of Port Canyon. Tales full of more truth than lies. She wouldn’t be here unless she had to be. Even the reasons for it are hidden behind another. Layered to protect the town.
Her grandmother is one of the few residents whose bloodline is left. She's been alone for years.
Like every generation before her, Grandma Joanie is the keeper of the graveyard. She helps the newly dead to adjust to their new reality, keeping them happy and safe as they make a peaceful transition. Forced to live with her grandmother, Fallon will soon learn what it means to be the keeper of the Port Canyon graveyard.
Other families who call Port Canyon home are very protective of their secluded little town. They are the ones who keep the legacies and legends alive. You will briefly meet them here, although this is not their story. This is the story of the graveyard, its keeper, its residents and their legacies.
The Graveyard is where this story calls home.
There will definitely be ghosts… and plenty of one in particular.
Welcome to Port Canyon.
Merrick
PROLOGUE
20 YEARS OLD - PORT CANYON 1985
Shifting gears, I can hear the roar of the engine. It matches the vibration rumbling through my body. It’s the only thing my brain registers. I know this road like the back of my hand, day or night, I could drive it with my eyes closed. It’s after midnight, and the clouds only allow some of the moonlight to shine through. A low fog winds its way through the forest, rolling up within the tree line on either side of the road. I’m driving to escape. I’m twenty years old, and I’m running away from my fucking mommy issues. Lingering since birth, this is nothing new. You don’t choose who your parents are. You don’t choose the life you're born into. Your fate has been written for you. There is nothing you can do to change it.
My dad passed away a few years ago. He just didn’t wake up one morning, lucky bastard. Since then, everything has gotten worse. Her duty has become an obsession. If you even so much as whisper about it, she’ll explode. It always turns into a fucking battle with that woman.
Dad came here one Halloween with his friends when he was nineteen, took one look at my mom and never left. That shit’s rare. Outsiders rarely come here, or even consider moving here. He had no idea what he was getting into. Fuck. I miss him.
Always the voice of reason. He was the best dad.
Out of sheer frustration, I slam my hands against the hard steering wheel of my burgundy Honda CRX. When will we ever be enough for her? When will she see we matter? We are her fucking kids! But she puts us on the goddamn back burner. For them.
We are responsible for them. We are responsible for keeping legacies alive, Merrick. It’s why our family has remained in Port Canyon generation after generation.’ It’s always the same fucking thing.
Fuck you. Fuck the legacy. Fuck our generational responsibility. If I ever have kids, I’ll never prioritize that shit over them. Never!
My younger brother, Mark, he sees it. He internalizes his feelings, but it showed in his clenched fists while his eyes scanned the small crowd in town center, realizing Mom was missing his graduation for them. It was when I knew he saw it without a doubt. In a small town like this his graduating class had all of ten students. A missing parent is noticed. I showed up.
Mark has to get out. He will get out.
I hold nothing back. Biting my tongue or filtering my words has never been an option. It’s not my personality.
Shifting gears again, and reaching maximum speed, I approach the bridge separating Port Canyon from the rest of the world. My mind is made up.
That’s another thing about me. I’m a stubborn fucker.
Mark. Read my words carefully in the morning.
Mom. Hear me loud and fucking clear. I’ll never be trapped in this place.
Never and neither will Mark.
Taking one hand off the wheel, I rake my fingers through my white blond hair while blowing out a breath. It’s go time.
Placing both hands back on the wheel, my car is cruising, the engine roaring with life as I crank my steering wheel hard to the right, never letting off the gas.
My front end breaks through the flimsy metal barrier towards the shallow, rocky water below, inky in the dead of night.
