Hellions
an excerpt

Compared to all of eternity, the human life span is painfully short. A bat of an eye, really. Compared with the eons and eons of existence, human life is nothing. So one would think that people would be more concerned with their afterlives than their current ones. And while they think of it from time to time, (especially during religious services and right after harrowing brushes with death), for the most part, people leave the philosophical questions of life after death to the philosophers, and instead focus on what's for dinner.

Take Adrian Hurst, for example. Just your average human being. 35 years old, slight receding hairline, a little more bulge around the stomach than he or his wife would like. Born and raised in Columbus, Ohio, now living in Memphis, Tennessee with his wife, Jolene and their little girl Francine. Wonders about their bank account, his in-laws and when he can get together with the guys again for poker night. Although, upon further reflection, Adrian probably thinks about death a little more than the average human being, because he works at All Saints Cemetery on Holmes Road. But his thoughts usually aren't anything too philosophical about spirits or souls. Mostly, Adrian wonders why there aren't more cemeteries. People have been dying for centuries. And while he knows that a fair share of them are cremated or buried in unmarked graves, Adrian thinks the cities should practically be overflowing with graveyards and cemeteries by now. In the Memphis daily paper, there are at least a dozen obituaries, and a good percentage of them get buried in the Baptist tradition. That's every day, and that's just in Memphis. Adrian can't figure out how the older cities like Paris or Rome have any room for the living at all. I mean, just where do all the dead people go?

Where indeed. Adrian Hurst was about to find out.