A Woman's Ghost in Bickington

Long before the ghost took her first step through the twilight lanes of Bickington, before her shawl whispered secrets to the hedgerows and her sorrow stained the dusk, the village had already begun to forget. In forgetting, they invited the haunting. For Bickington, though picturesque and steeped in the hum of tradition, had grown careless with memory—too quick to let the old ways fade, too deaf to the quiet urgencies of the dead. The yew tree in St. Mary’s churchyard still stood, its roots deep in hallowed soil, sheltering generations beneath its shadow. But when Agnes Harrow was denied her place among them, something shifted in that soil. A promise broken, a wish unmet—and from that wound, a presence rose. Not malevolent, not kind. Simply... unresolved. And from that day on, Bickington would walk with her.