It was the middle of the night according to the old grandfather clock down at the bottom of the stairs, now striking the the hour. The storms that earlier that afternoon threatened Clear Valley, were definitely over them. The winds buffeting Aunt Celia's cottage without concern. Howling and whistling through the cracks upstairs in the dormers. But it was the broken shutters, those barely hanging onto their hinges, slamming against the side of the house as the unrelenting winds slung them about that finally awakened Marla.

Hating to leave the warmth of her bed, but knowing she would get no rest lest she secure the latches, Marla threw back the covers and padded on now icy feet toward the large windows of her room. The room she didn't like, but was grateful to get nonetheless. It was Celia's favorite, to hear the old woman talk. It was Marla's least favorite because of the view.

The room overlooked, indeed her balcony hung directly over the family graveyard. And although the room faced the East...not a drop of sunshine ever came through these windows. Nothing but gloom and the eternal fog visited her here. Still, Marla supposed....it was certainly better than the orphanage where her Great Aunt Celia rescued her from. Definitely better.

Throwing up the glass panes, Marla stuck her hands out into the slashing icy rain and wind, grasping blindly at where she supposed the shutters were. Three tries, and still the shutters eluded her clutch. The fog down below seemed to be spiraling upward toward her. And with each miss, her sense of urgency grew to greater proportions.

"This is ridiculous," she chided herself. "There's nothing down there, Marla. Nothing but family long gone." But the feeling that she should finish her task and retreat to the safety of her room, behind locked windows was overpowering. Stupid, of course. She had nothing to fear. She hadn't feared the dark ever--so why start now?