The last time I read Lord of the Rings, the time before recently with the kids, I was running one night and passed a church.

No one was in it. The front lights were on inside, and I felt a really strange eeriness.

Everyone knows the greatest story ever told, so I’m sure it isn’t necessary to elaborate, but for thrills, I will anyway.

In The Return of the King, when Aragorn goes into the mountain to summon the army of the dead to fulfill their oath, Tolkien summed up the fears of those with Strider in one brilliant line:

The dead are following.

When I ran by the church that night, I thought that very thing. My entire body went cold, and I ran home faster than I could.

I mentioned recently the concept of life after death. Well, I sort of mentioned it. Poe mentions it better.

Mystery of mysteries.