A deafening clap of thunder shook the old Victorian house. Darkness, like the blackest of moonless nights, filled the rooms as all electricity was lost. Anguished shrieks of fear sounded from a corner of the sullen living room. Intense flashes of lightning revealed a petrified woman huddled against a carved end table, not wanting to face the desolate, empty house alone.

As the storm grew in intensity, so did the woman's fear. From the corner of her eye, she would see shadows stalk, drapes rustle, and hear noises unknown to her senses. She wanted to run outside and away. Her chin stiffened as she realized the fear was in her own mind, not in the house.

Still the storm grew, ripping apart the fabric between reality and dreams. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead as her eyes witnessed the slow turning of the front doorknob. With amazing speed, she ran to the kitchen. She mistook a clap of thunder for the slamming of a door. Heartbeat. Silence.

Breaking out into sobs, she resolved in her mind to stay alive, and to feel again the warmth of the morning sun. Taking one large kitchen knife, she swallowed her unnerving fear and slowly started moving towards the front entryway. Screaming wildly, she lashed out repeatedly as the shadows themselves whirled around her. As one seemed to take shape in front of her, she concentrated her furious assault on the dark figure. As the quickness of her attacks lessened, she felt herself slowly falling . . .

The morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the old Victorian. What was revealed was not as bright. A small, well-built man lay partially face down, knife slashes across his arms, chest and face. The bloody kitchen knife protruded from his mangled neck.

Adrenaline gone, the woman propped herself up, fatigue working against her. She stopped, paralyzed, after seeing the man's blood-stained hand. Screams of raw terror echoed as the woman realized they were wearing identical wedding bands. n