August 19, Monday

I'D DECIDED to pull out my laptop and get it set up, reasoning I'd eventually have to send Bruce a digital manuscript. To my relief, he'd texted that he loved the first three chapters of the book and couldn't wait to read more.

I couldn't wait to write more. After I set up the laptop, I spent the morning transcribing my hand-written pages into a file. Because of the daily writing stints in the cemetery, I'd gotten to chapter ten, and I was very pleased with the story so far. After I entered the pages, I inserted a USB drive to back up the files, then I walked downstairs to let Satan have at my notebook.

It seemed like a good ritual to get into. I had a new notebook at the ready for tomorrow's writing session.

I found Satan chewing on morning glories, but he abandoned them to tear my notebook into pieces. The sound of a caravan of cars brought my head around.

Four… five… six cars drove by. I squinted at my watch. One o'clock in the afternoon was a strange time for visitors, but maybe it was a family.

I walked back into the house and up to my bedroom window, then picked up the binoculars. A crowd of about fifteen had gathered in front of the gates and were pacing methodically—walking the remains of the labyrinth, I suddenly realized. They were performing some kind of ritual again. Instead of robes, they wore matching shawls draped over their shoulders. The Benson twins were there, but I didn't see Tilda, although it was hard to see everyone for the trees.

I stared, fascinated as the crowd moved in unison for several minutes before coming together in a clump and lifting their arms to the sky. I pulled out my phone and checked the lunar calendar.

Today was a full moon, a supermoon, and seasonal Blue moon at 1:25 p.m., even though the moon wasn't yet visible.

Suddenly the electricity blinked, then went out.

I gasped. The same thing had happened last month at the full moon… and Kelly had inferred that it happened regularly.

I turned and ran to my new laptop to see the dreaded blue screen of death. "No!" I shouted. Thankfully, I'd backed up the pages I'd typed in onto the USB drive. I removed it from the machine and held it up in triumph.

But the end was completely melted.