A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
A hundred years ago, in what is now called Old Tuonela, a killer known as the Pale Immortal walked the streets. When darkness fell children were rushed inside, doors and windows locked up tight. Some claimed the Pale Immortal bathed in blood, and that blood flooded the streets until the ground became saturated.
Even after the Pale Immortal's reign of terror ended, people were afraid. His death had come too late.
Many claimed the ground was cursed, and so a mass exodus took place. Every single person relocated to a new development five miles from the old one. A better location, they claimed. And prettier. On a bluff overlooking the river. Why had anyone settled at the old place, in such a dark valley?
Let's pretend Old Tuonela doesn't exist. Let's pretend we always lived here, in the new place.
Even though a hundred years has passed, many locals still like to pretend Old Tuonela isn't just beyond the outskirts of town where the softly rolling hills end abruptly, the valleys become dark and deep, and the roads turn back on themselves.
But if you look closely through the trees you can see it out there, across the Tuonela River. And if you can't see it, you can feel it.