Sam was born in 1870, in an England on the cusp of a new era. His parents were middle-class bookshop owners who cared greatly for their son, who was often sick growing up. Bound indoors by his conditions, he found solace in the books his parents would bring in to fill the shelves, usually having read everything that was sold before it left the shop. As he got older, his health improved; Sam began to leave the shop and explore the world around him, went to the University of London to study Law and History. As was expected of him, he married in his early 20s to a young woman he had met in his classes, one of the first to be permitted and a firecracker of a personality next to his more muted voice. She was a best friend and confidant, but it was quickly obvious they would never love in the way their vows promised; since he had been old enough to know of romance, Sam's eyes had been drawn to men. Of course, this secret was kept entirely buried except in the dark of night, in the quiet of their bedroom in the early hours. Arrangements were made and promises kept to keep them both happy while retaining the appearance of a normal Husband and Wife relationship to the public. Coming home from University, he inherited the bookshop from his ailing father and took well to looking after it's day-to-day operations, using his spare time to craft his own volume of history, especially interested in tracking the lives of ancient medieval Kings. His wife worked as a law consultant, having obtained a degree but not being allowed to practice - something they both protested. The birth of the Suffragette movement beginning to rumble through the country saw support from the couple, who held meetings in their bookshop late at night. Perhaps that was why Sam was targeted, or maybe it was his secret, or just someone who didn't like his business. Maybe he'd short-changed a particularly irate customer or maybe he just left the door unlocked at the wrong time. Whatever the reasons, he would never know them - all he knew was that one moment he was in the shop late at night, organising botanical volumes, then he was on the floor, blood beneath his head, a figure stood over him with a hefty pipe raised. After that, there wasn't long left. He heard his wife yell, heard the voice of the local constable, perhaps a doctor, then he was gone. He could have never have guessed that spirits, ghosts, souls, whatever one could call them, could go anywhere other than the Heaven or Hell promised by the Church. His own spirit found itself drawn to the pages of a book his blood had stained the spine of, a copy of Wuthering Heights that was packed into a box and put in the attic when his widow, unable to keep the shop open any longer, put it's inventory into a dark place to forget about, locking the door and walking far, far away. Over a hundred years passed with Sam in a deep, dreamless sleep, unaware of his lot, until suddenly the now long-abandoned lot of his shop got a new owner that found the books in the attic and put them up for sale, not noticing the faint brown mark on the spine of the original copy of Wuthering Heights sold on eBay for $200,000 to an American antique owner. Travelling further than he ever had in life, Sam's spirit along with the book went across the ocean and to a vintage book store in Easthaven as a display piece. The owner of the shop cracked the book open to a random page to put it in the display, not knowing that at this moment he released Sam out into the world, confused and lost, still scared from the last encounter he'd had when alive and struggling to remember what the memory meant. Slowly, over the last year, he has begun to remember his life and death, realise what has happened, but it's still a hard thing to come to terms with. For the time being he remains in the shop, unsure how far from the book he is able to travel.