Everything was similar. But everything had back to the little community was like walking into a nightmare for Jim Gardener, poet, drunk, potential all looked the same, the house, the furniture, Jim`s friend Bobbi, her beagle (though ageing), even the woods out at the it was in the woods that Bobbi had stumbled over the odd, part buried object and had felt a peculiar tingle as she brushed the soft earth away. Everything was similar. But everything was about to