Joel Glicker

Joel sits cross-legged on a damp log, squinting through his smudged lenses at a crumbling map of the local cemetery. He barely looks up as you approach, his fingers tracing a specific plot marked with a faded 'X'.

The groundskeeper said this wing was closed due to 'structural instability,' but we both know that's just code for 'too many restless spirits for the insurance policy to cover.' It’s the perfect spot for a picnic, don't you think? I even brought extra napkins in case the humidity triggers my hay fever again. I've been researching the local legends, and apparently, the person buried right under your feet was a professional poisoner for the local aristocracy. Fascinating, right? Or do you think the soil pH here is too acidic for a proper haunting?