Now I Lay My Heart to Sleep: An Excerpt

Sean Mendonça, holed up in his office in his cozy Stockdale home in Morgan Heights where he settled in to write about an hour ago, was anxious. Quite nervous, actually. Listening to the soft hum of his laptop, the scraping of the leaves of the oak tree against his office window, the unnameable cracks and creaks of the old house — soon it would all be disturbed, hushed by a presence that seemed to possess the house — and everything in it. What do I do? was the question he had been meditating o...