When the air was still out amongst the pine trees, and even without wind, things seemed to shuffle and rustle through the brush, we children would start to talk of lightless eyes, cold skin,
and the unnatural gait of the long deceased come back for Sunday supper. My grandma always had words of hard-earned experience, though, to soothe our fears.
"Don't be afraid when the dead come a-calling, for people are mostly good, and the dead are just people a little farther down the road.
It's when the things that were never alive in the first place show up that you start worrying."