the Irish

The wind whispering through the thick forest trees is a welcome sound, against the dead still of night where only ones' footsteps can be heard. The war ended with what felt like a murmur, a few years had passed and now men with skills they cannot use seek whatever work they can. 1950 sees the Pacific northwest booming, with new homes and buildings lunging skyward as the postwar economy thrives and new families are built. Yet, in the quiet and lovely towns now dotting the landscape from Portland to Seattle, people talk in hushed tones of strange men seen wandering the roads at night, of murmurs in the woods and folks disappearing. It was only a matter of time before someone stepped in to sort it out.