Rain danced across the roof and left tear stained windows in the old, battered house. The boards creaked and sighed, they had seen more than a few good storms in their many years of abuse.

The house was empty now and smelled of mildewing popouri; a sweet reflection of irony in the broken mirrors and the eyes of the china dolls against the west wall of what used ot be a young girl’s bedroom. When the family left suddenly, they took almost nothing with them and did not renounce their claim on the house. They left it to rot on the once pristine hilltop.

After the trees and brambles had staked their claim on the lawn, the mansion sat amongst a quiet forest and was forgotten about over a few decades.

Then there was the miserably wet day that Chloe Wood happened to be hiking through the forest behind her grandmother’s house. And there was a candle burning in the window of what used to be a young girl’s bedroom in Hathoway Manor.