FLASHBACK
The house was quiet that night.
Too quiet.
Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes as Rose sat cross legged on the wooden floor, a half finish sketchbook resting in her lap. Her pencils were scattered around her like fallen soldiers – every shade of grey, charcoal and smudged black. She didn't speak. She hadn't spoken in months. Not since the accident. Not since her parents died.
A creaked echoed from the hallway, but she didn't flinch. Aunt Marian was always pacing. Jake was probably asleep by now.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees.
Draw. That's all she did now.
Her fingers moved own their own, sketching shadows, blurred faces, half remembered dreams. Then, something made her stop.
A flicker.
Movement.
From the window.
Slowly, Rose turned her head towards the glass. The wood behind the trees were wrapped in fog, but the moonlight carved out just enough to see –
A man.
Dragging something heavy.
Limp.
Shapeless.
Human??
Her breath caught in her throat.
He looked around – once,– twice – then disappeared in the trees, swallowed by the dark.
She didn't scream.
She didn't run.
Instead, with trembling fingers, she reached for the fresh page...
and begin to draw.