...ah, them Finnish toymaker-warlocks-grieving-men on the hill. when the rotting toy/goul was able to whisper in his ear about..."and that's why the toymaker never woke up"... I had a nasty grin form on my face. If the goul was sitting on the bed frame, who/what the hell was perched in the shadows ready to pound a nail into the man's throat???
This was a might fine story with a Scanadanavian twist. More, please.