The lush, majestic mountains of Western Pennsylvania are ever changing. Fog, mist, glorious sunrise, sunset, and tumultuous storms set the patterns of continuity. The mountains are as old as time.
As one looks down from the top, a panorama of contrast is evident. Dense forest, hard-won fields with herds of cattle, and farms dot the landscape where agriculture is possible. Small villages are scattered, containing poverty, wealth, and somewhere in between. Years of persistence created tradition and community.
The mountains harbored a truly evil man. His life was ruled by rage and destruction and created terror in those who crossed his path.
The ghost child knew with certainty that he was a monster.
No name was given to her. She was shunned. Her mother died giving birth to her and was erased from the family Bible. The child was born out of wedlock and was made to pay for the sins of her mother.
Her sentence of isolation and servitude was not handed down by her community or its rules and practices but by that one vicious, violent man.
A steady, determined spark of life lived within the ghost child. She survived; she listened and learned. She vowed to escape the monster.
She didn’t know what awaited her, but even the possibility of death could not dissuade her.
She escaped. She lived.
She named herself Sarah. She became real.
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