Particles of Mist

Chapter One

Alice leaned against the wall, hood pulled low, hands in her pockets. A light drizzle drifted down from the dark clouds overhead. Like it really wanted to be a storm, but it just couldn't summon up the energy to get a good rain going.

A heavy mist had slunk in without her notice until it was so thick, she could barely make out the house across the street. She called it a house but it resembled more of a tomb, and she eyed it doubtfully through the rain dripping off the edge of her hood. It looked like something straight out of a small town horror movie.

The thick mist draped across it like a heavy shroud, coiling and twisting, making it seem as if there were things moving in the dark. Grasping skeletal hands reaching out and getting dragged back down, shadowy cloaked figures flitting across the lawn to vanish into the mist. She kept seeing flashes of movement in the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look there was nothing there.

The wrought iron fence was covered in thorny, grasping vines and pockmarked with rust. It leaned dangerously inward, as if to impale the twisting shadows on the wicked points. The fence encircled a severely neglected lawn, knee length grass flattened by the rain and glistening with water.

A jungle of brambles, thorns and vines tangled together, flowed across the lawn. It crowded most thickly against the fence, pressing against it. Trying to escape but leaning back toward the house, dragged by a magnetic force and pointing to the rickety, rundown porch.

The porch looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought, not quite lined up right. Yawning blackness stared out from places where boards were missing. The middle sagged downward under the weight of years of neglect.

The door was slightly crooked, off center like someone had ripped it out furiously -- hinges and all -- then badly replaced it. It was strangely sturdy looking though, multiple locks and deadbolts. As if trying to keep something out ... or keep something in.

The house was dark, no light shining from the windows, many of them boarded over. It loomed over the yard like a gnarled tree leaning over a grave, and was made of a dark wood she never actually saw people make houses out of. There were great gaping scars across the roof where shingles were missing, she could see piles of them shattered across the ground.

To top it all off, the whole house was slightly crooked, leaning dangerously to one side or the other. Looking like at any moment it would topple and consume anyone unfortunate enough to be standing in its shadow.

"Are you sure about this? Have you seen this house?"

Luke sighed in her ear, making the ear-piece crackle. "Yes, Ali. If you want to start this gang of merry men this is the place to start. Trust me."

"This doesn't look like the house of a very merry man. More like a chainsaw murderer."

"Well then you should have nothing to fear. Chainsaws are a horribly inefficient weapon."

"Tell that to all the poor people cut up in the basement."

"Seriously though, Ali, I've done my research. You want her on your team."

"Should we really start with her though?"

"Yes, you should. You can't seriously tell me you're afraid."

"Of course not. I can handle her ... but, I mean, really, have you seen the house?"

"Yes, I have seen the house. I think it's kind of cool."

"Spoken like a man who doesn't have to knock. Who lives in a house like that? This is like an R rated episode of the Addams Family."

"Oooo, let me know it you come across any dismembered hands walking about."