• Out of the gloom, a Shadow emerges, without a sound It sidles effortlessly to the window, a hedgerow obscuring the Shadow from unlikely passersby. On investigating the grime-covered window, it appears to be locked from within. However with a little effort on the Shadow’s part; the timeworn hinge, almost entirely rusted through, gives and permits the Shadow entry. The Shadow’s movements, smooth and timed just so, as to keep with the tranquility of this place is no cause for alarm, as more often than not the Shadow passes unnoticed to all but the most acutely sensed. The Shadow’s ethereal gait leads now, across what may be assumed was, at one time, a great hall where guests, festooned in colourful garb, attended lavish parties; now squalid in years of disrepair, is but an expanse of rotten floorboards and rusty nails. However, the Shadow traverses the gauntlet with ease, an intricate waltz, never a misstep, never a near miss, each foot always finding its mark, until at last the Shadow’s dance comes to an end as Its feet come to rest on the soot stained hearth of an immense fireplace. Upon this hearth, the Shadow now kneels, while from within the folds of its cloak, It procures several sundries. After a few moments, a spark from the darkness comes to rest within a small pile of kindling. The Shadow’s gentle breath speaks words of encouragement unto the embers, and soon a hearty fire is crackling in the fireplace. With the fire content to burn steadily on its own, the Shadow rises now, sloughing off the coat that so reliably kept It warm, in favor of the tender caress of the fire lapping near Its feet. In the warm glow of the same fire, the darkness that was the Shadow is driven away leaving only a weathered old man trying to find respite from the harsh winter night; an old man without a home, taking shelter from the tempest that rages just outside the window with a broken lock.