The wind banged against the dark window, where nothing but the reflection of the outdoors stared out at the desolate street. Something was stirring the air around the house, but not all disturbances are seen.

A girl, about the age of eight stood in front of the black window. She was intrigued, and stood there waiting for something to occur, but all she saw was herself, her ponytails waving wildly around her head, and her winter coat covering her shoulders. For an hour she stood, fighting the biting cold and ignoring the tearing wind. Still, all she saw was her reflection, so she turned on her heel and walked halfway down the block when a scream pierced the still air, it rattled the girl to the bones, but she had felt that something disturbing was creeping upon the small neighborhood. She hesitated and almost ran to her own house, but turned toward the direction she had come and sprinted in her black snow boots. Several minutes later she stood at the door of the mysterious house, her hand reaching toward the knocker. She placed her hand on the cool brass and rapped on the door twice, she scurried behind the birch tree in the front yard, and waited. No one came to the door, so cautiously she tiptoed to the wide window. A light flickered on inside the house and began to move around, it illuminated an armchair, a pair of rubber boots sitting beside a dead fireplace, and the gloved hand that held the candle steady. Suddenly the light was gone. The young girl pressed her nose against the glass, causing it to fog up. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for anything else when she happened to glance higher up the window. She saw something that would plague her dreams until the end of time. Just faintly she could see a pale man’s face, and the glint of a dagger. Again, a scream rang out, and the girl was never to be found.