Sometimes, though, in the months after, when the sun was setting and he found himself alone in his apartment, he could not help but recall brooding Moonville. In his dreams he would sometimes envision dark, twilit scenes where doubtful shapes shifted among the walls of trees. Squat, rundown habitations would leer out at him from the depths of sleep, their primordial darkness suggestive of yet unexplored dimensions of terror.
Thankfully, this vague fear of his was nothing that a little Sinatra couldn't banish.
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The Sick House: An Occult Thriller (The Ulrich Files Book 1) Page 19