Nobody in Preston could remember when the watertower was built, or who had built it, but there it stood ... casting a long, dark shadow across the valley, across Preston itself.
Spike led the way, as usual. "My mother says it's dangerous up there," he said, "but it's worth it, hey?" Bubba puffed on behind. His mother couldn't have cared less where he went.
It was dark inside, "The dark's got a sort of colour," Bubba said, squatting on the bottom rung of the ladder. "It's sort of green. Like moss. Like slimy, dead moss."
Bubba shook his head. "No way. If my mother finds out that I lost my pants, I'm dead." They looked at each other. They knew that this was true. Mama D'Angelo could land a wallop like nobody else in town.
But he was frightened, very frightened and, rung by rung - so as not to shake the ladder, not to disturb anything - he crept upwards, towards the sun. I'll be safer here, he thought; though from what, exactly, he could not imagine.
Spike's eyes narrowed. This was not like Bubba. Not like Bubba at all. "Go on," he said, shoving him. "Show us your fingers then; show us the water wrinkles. Come on..."
He shut the hatch with a thud. Deep in the tank, the water eddied and swirled.
The viewer by 
The lost diamonds of Killiecrankie by 
Valley of Bones by 
Memorial by 
In the secret place by 
