A cryptic family album hiding a mystery 170 years old; a lonely cemetery revealing disturbing patterns no one will acknowledge; a dreaded knock at the door on a night of deserted streets, hushed voices, and villagers cowering by candlelight. These are a few of the elements of this tale of slowly mounting dread, in which an anguished mystery writer explores the secrets of a strange and ominous town beckoning her from the past. Abridged from the novel.  Additional narration by Amy Paonessa of <a href= "https://www.thebloodlust.net/" target="_blank" rel= "nofollow noopener">The Bloodlust</a> podcast. Music: “The Sea of Nothing” by Aquartos and “The Loner” by Pete Kneser, Getty Music.

A cryptic family album hiding a mystery 170 years old; a lonely cemetery revealing disturbing patterns no one will acknowledge; a dreaded knock at the door on a night of deserted streets, hushed voices, and villagers cowering by candlelight. These are a few of the elements of this tale of slowly mounting dread, in which an anguished mystery writer explores the secrets of a strange and ominous town beckoning her from the past. Abridged from the novel. Additional narration by Amy Paonessa of The Bloodlust podcast. Music: “The Sea of Nothing” by Aquartos and “The Loner” by Pete Kneser, Getty Music.

A cryptic family album hiding a mystery 170 years old; a lonely cemetery revealing disturbing patterns no one will acknowledge; a dreaded knock at the door on a night of deserted streets, hushed voices, and villagers cowering by candlelight. These are a few of the elements of this tale of slowly mounting dread, in which an anguished mystery writer explores the secrets of a strange and ominous town beckoning her from the past. Abridged from the novel.&nbsp; Additional narration by Amy Paonessa of <a href="https://www.thebloodlust.net/" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Bloodlust</a> podcast. Music: “The Sea of Nothing” by Aquartos and “The Loner” by Pete Kneser, Getty Music.

Town With a Tranquil Name

Works written and produced by Soren Narnia. The text of these stories is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA.  Email: songofsadbirds@aol.com      --     When I was in the fourth grade, my teacher asked me to sit next to a handicapped kid named Sean and help him along a little if I could. It wasn't easy, because he was quite slow, but I tried. When Sean got especially excited about something, or if he was told he had done something well, he would smile and shout out nonsense words. One of them I remember, which he used to shout many times over the few months I sat beside him, was "Sorinarneeya!" Again and again, it was a harmless word he used when he was happy, and seeing my puzzled expression would just make him say it once more, even more pleased than the first time: "Sorinarneeya!" For some reason that word stuck with me for years, until one day as an adult I realized how neatly and curiously it cut in half. And I thought that was so perfect, how this little gem of a thing had sprung from a bit of the absurd and a bit of the tragic. That seemed like all of life to me: momentary bits of perfection out of all the absurdity and tragedy. And amazingly, they just keep on coming. - SN

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Works written and produced by Soren Narnia. The text of these stories is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA. Email: songofsadbirds@aol.com -- When I was in the fourth grade, my teacher asked me to sit next to a handicapped kid named Sean and help him along a little if I could. It wasn't easy, because he was quite slow, but I tried. When Sean got especially excited about something, or if he was told he had done something well, he would smile and shout out nonsense words. One of them I remember, which he used to shout many times over the few months I sat beside him, was "Sorinarneeya!" Again and again, it was a harmless word he used when he was happy, and seeing my puzzled expression would just make him say it once more, even more pleased than the first time: "Sorinarneeya!" For some reason that word stuck with me for years, until one day as an adult I realized how neatly and curiously it cut in half. And I thought that was so perfect, how this little gem of a thing had sprung from a bit of the absurd and a bit of the tragic. That seemed like all of life to me: momentary bits of perfection out of all the absurdity and tragedy. And amazingly, they just keep on coming. - SN

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Town With a Tranquil Name

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