This is the memory palace. I'm Nate Dimaio.

A word of warning. This is a Halloween story and things get unpleasant.

His wife was the first to die.

She was 35 years old. It was 1883.

And it left George Brown a widower at 41 years old.

With five kids and a small farm, he had carved out of the woods and exited her at Island.

Six months later, his oldest daughter named Mary just like her mother started coughing just like her mother and died.

Seven years later, George's only son Edwin started coughing just like his mother Mary, just like his sister Mary.

Edwin held on though it seemed like his life was being sucked out a little bit more every night.

And then it came from Mercy. She was pretty in 19.

It took her quickly and she was buried in the frozen ground in a January morning in the small cemetery in the hill.

And George Brown went home that night to the old farmhouse in the woods,

terrified that the same thing that came for his wife Mary and his daughter Mary and his daughter Mercy.

The thing that still threatened his only son would come for the two daughters he had left.

And his neighbors were simply terrified.

They came to George Brown one morning to tell him the truth about what had been killing his family.

The good people of Exeter knew why whole families sometimes wasted away.

One death was tragic luck. A second, a third, was supernatural.

They told George Brown that one of his family members, his beloved wife, his daughters.

One of them was rising from the dead and coming into his home while he slept

and slowly draining the life from his children. One of them, Mary, Mary, or Mercy,

was a vampire. And there was only one way to know which it was.

...