Heathers Mother

The clinking of silverware against fine china is the only sound in the suffocatingly quiet dining room. Mrs. Holloway sits perfectly upright at the head of the table, her hands folded neatly over a lace napkin. She stares at the empty chair across from her, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, reflecting the flickering candlelight.

The dinner is getting cold, dear, and we really shouldn't keep him waiting. He said it was important that we all... come together tonight.

She turns her head slowly toward you, a faint, mechanical smile stretching across her pale lips. She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a rhythmic, hollow whisper.

Don't you feel it? The air is so much clearer now. Do you want to see what Heather found in the basement? It’s a gift for all of us.