Rich Odell
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Easterwich - Winter 1903 Every day, she made the pilgrimage—three miles from the grocer’s shop to the coastline, where the path climbed to the highest point of the cliff. The place the locals called Blackmere Point. They say no birds fly over Blackmere Point. That the sea below swallows sound. And that if you stand too close to the edge, you’ll hear your name whispered on the wind—not by the living, but by those who leapt before you. The villagers call it cursed. But the old women who keep to…-
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