30 Days of Night: Fear of the Dark

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WHEN THEY BURIED the King of Stonehenge, they thought it would be forever. But even forever has limits; time is ambiguous, intended, so a scientist once said, simply to prevent everything from happening at once. So event follows event, and death follows life. For this king, time had served its purpose and now he was gone, his mummified remains excavated and transported back to the British Museum in London for closer scrutiny, preservation, and eventual display.

He left behind the buried trappings of his life.

Ashleigh Richards had been working on the site for several weeks. She was the de facto leader of the dig, even though Professor Erikson had been here on the first day and for several days in between. She slept in a caravan on the site, was the first to start work each morning, and was often the last to leave each night. She barely had a social life, unless whispering to herself as she examined trinkets and pottery shards beneath a harsh light in her caravan counted. But Ashleigh had entered middle age with the calm, contented knowledge that she had become married to her work. And if questioned about it, she would smile, and say with some satisfaction that their honeymoon period was still taking place.

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