A night as cloudless and wintry as that night had never plagued the Rochester skies before. The only sound: the gentle, chattering wind through the trees, the leaves quivering in its wake. The moon shone boastfully in the night sky, its light in streams crept through the street, highlighting the aged cobblestones, shining on rooftops of the sleeping houses. The light exposed the unseen, hid the obvious.
With her face pressed against the icy iron-gate, and her hands clinging wistfully to the bars, Cassie stood staring up at the great house atop the hill, out of place and imposing against a backdrop of city lights. How was she to accomplish this? Could she climb over the gate? She glanced up at the thick metal spikes that stood atop the gate and quickly dismissed the idea. Her fingers, growing numb from the frost searched blindly for any loose bars that she could pry free. No such luck. The gate was locked shut by a large metal padlock with the initials ‘M.C.’ printed boldly on the front. She sighed heavily, her breath tracing warm, wispy circles in front of her.
The house itself had not changed, but the garden around it had wilted into miniature mountains of black dust. Fingers of ivy had grown wildly over the doorframe, like veins from a hand, forcing their way into the house through tiny cracks in the brick. The rose garden that had once been her mother’s most prized, second to her own children, had been strangled by intrusive weeds. Prying her face away from the bars, she pulled her jacket around her tighter as she felt a bitingly cold chill run under her clothes. She took a few steps back and tried to assess her situation when a small noise made her eyes prick up. Footsteps? Someone was coming.
“Hey! You! What are you doing here?”