Though it may seem a bit complicated, the story is simple, and when all the pieces are laid out, it is plain to see where it all began. It started with one single human by the name of Tane MacGregor; one single, officially insane, homeless dust rag of a man. He occasionally caught glances from passing strangers as he swung his feet rhythmically from the drawbridge over the calm waters of Spa Creek, and he was often found in the company of angels.
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The nineteenth century is about to draw to a close. In its place will come the twentieth, a century of change, a century of science, a century that will see the superstitions of the past swept away. There are some who are determined to see that never happens. A body is found crushed to death in the London snow. There are no footprints anywhere…
As it was said, MacGregor was seen as the glue, the string binding all the events and beings which created a rather remarkable occurrence in the soft, beautifully adjacent, scenic towns of Annapolis and Eastport and, in particular, about the small Eastport Drawbridge over Spa Creek, spanning and dividing the two.
Now, as the story would be told and retold in most homes and taverns around the Chesapeake for many years, it was too easily called coincidence. True, it began at a certain time with a certain person, in a certain situation, accompanied by an incredible series of events, people, celestial beings, lawyers, homeless schizophrenics, ghosts, God, junk food, and small deviations in time and space, with waving definitions of good and evil, all coming together in a perfect harmonic mix … but coincidence?