“Its beautiful!” Jenny declared as we pushed past the evergreens and emerged into the clearing. “Even better than you described it!” Taking my hand she- while, we- rushed towards the old wooden shack on Mt. Pokee. Was it a stupid name? Yeah, but I had spent many summers out here with the folks chasing fireflies at night and napping in dandelion seas during the day. “Is it locked?” Jenny asked when we reached the front door. “I doubt it,” I said twisting the knob. There was a slight resistance, but once it got to know the bottom of my foot, the door soon let go of any of its inhibitions. And the hinges. “Oops,” Jenny giggled as we pushed back some cobwebs. “Oh mark! Look at this!” she exclaimed, holding an old portrait of my grandfather. “Put that down,” I said “It gave me the creeps even when there were lights.” We were scrounging the cabin for flashlights or a lightswitch using sunshine as our aid. Unfortunately for us the sunshine didn’t reveal the meth lab in the basement that blew up and killed us.