The Falstead Mysteries
Ah, yes, here we are in Falstead… changeless, legend-haunted Falstead, where the gambrel roofs sway and sag over attics where witches once hid from King’s men in the dark, olden days days of the province.
Or maybe it was like that once, at the turn of the century. But time has been surprisingly good to Falstead. North of Boston but South of Portsmouth, it was never a major port, letting it avoid the more dramatic booms and busts of the 20th century. Instead, Falstead has been becoming steadily more prosperous through the last century. Though there are still some stark divides between the city’s neighborhoods, the city has a low rate of violent crimes, and an array of municipal advantages: a prominent state university (UNH Falstead) connected to the state hospital, public parks and museums, teams of quick-responders… Falstead is a good place to live.
Well. Unless you live a few blocks below Main St, where the property development never caught on. Or if you live in Oceanside, which was never quite as nice as the name suggests. Or if you are one of the people who lives in the ramshackle apartments downtown, instead of just working there and living in a nicer neighborhood to the north.
It’s a beautiful, wealthy city to the North of the river. South of the river, it’s got… character.
And mysteries. Spooky fucking mysteries.