Nods visited him nightly. Like clockwork. At the end of his bed. That’s where Nods would be.
Sitting on Zeke’s legs. Sometimes on his chest. And, as much as Zeke wished him away, Nods
was always there. Whispering. Taunting. Threatening.
Always.

That is until a tragic car accident left Zeke in a coma. When he awoke, Nods Rotten was gone.
Twenty years later, Zeke is the off-season caretaker at Camp Saw-Whet. He has the place
entirely to himself. Peace. Quiet. Time to think.
And then, in the midst of a powerful Nor’easter, there’s a rapping on his cabin door.
Who would be out in this kind of weather? This deep in the woods? In the middle of the night?
A mysterious figure stands in the rain, veiled in shadow, begging to be let in.
There’s something disquieting about the mansomething impossibly familiar.
But this time, Zeke isn’t asleep. And the figure before him isn’t imaginary.

Little slumber’un,
Wants the fun’erun,
But he’ll have none’erun,
Not ’til Nods is done’erun.