Posted on August 20, 2010 |
At his point I think I should tell you a thing or two about ghouls . . . or ghuls, as they are known in some parts of the world. I know about them from my mother’s books—the only part of her sizable estate that my father managed to miss. There were three small books on this particular subject, tucked away in a bottom drawer of her bureau, which is probably why Christian overlooked them. I first set eyes on them on the very day of her funeral. As I mentioned earlier, I was six when she died. We were living, at the time, in Switzerland near Lausanne where Mother owned a large summer house.
It was November, a depressing time to be in Lausanne. The house was very cold when we returned from the funeral. Mother’s coffin had been in a parlor near the terrace. The French doors, which had been opened, were still ajar when we returned. I remember one of my mother’s friends, a few men in suits, a gardener. I don’t remember my father. Of course not, Christian wasn’t there.
—DEAD LOVE/Chapter 8.1/Ghul-ish Thoughts
