Dense fog muted the sound of the oars as they gently punctured the glassy surface. Dim lights in the distance appeared to hover over the still gray bay. As the boat glided past the shack on the tiny island there was stark silence. The only sign of life was suffused light faintly emanating from two candled windows. As we drifted by, the shack disappeared in the silky wake of our boat like a fleeting dream. Ahead was a wall of opaque disorienting nothingness. Then, from behind, the sound of wailing, a single gunshot, and stark silence once again.

(Photo credit: unknown)