You're going to. Oh, And the Welcome to Human Monsters. January 27th 2008, 5.30 p.m. Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, Canada. I was born in Amherst, Nova Scotia,

which is very much like Bridgewater, in that it is a landlocked town in a province

known for its seaside vistas.

The population of Bridgewater usually hovers around 8,500, which isn't that far off from

Amherst's population of around 9,000 citizens.

After all, Nova Scotia is populated by fewer than a million people.

Like Amherst, Bridgewater is a safe town.

The police are more likely to spend their working days, tracking down stolen bicycles, and

reining in drunks on Saturday nights,

then to find themselves investigating murders

and suspicious deaths.

It's not Twin Peaks, after all. Winter can be brutal in Nova Scotia, while not a part of the so-called

snow belt. Nova Scotia is seldom neglected by precipitation at any time of year, and winter is generous

with heavy snowfalls in that region.

Once the snow plows are done clearing the streets, it's not unusual to see snowbanks reaching up to the telephone wires.

It's charming during the Christmas season

with that Winter Wonderland sensibility.

But once mid-January rolls around,

winter just becomes grim and burdensome. On this date a blizzard hammered bridge water as it had for days

and meteorologists predicted that the township would receive 10 additional

centimeters overnight. Meteorologists are household names in Nova Scotia. My grandmother was glued to the

weather channel during winter even though she seldom went out of the house. On this

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