Informally Yours

A howl broke the stillness of the night. Melinda hesitated halfway up the stone steps and glanced around. Clouds blocked the moon from illuminating the landscape; the only light came from an upstairs window. Ahead of her, shadows covered the wraparound porch so thick she couldn't see the front door--even when she squinted. Looking up at the gargoyles, she thought their eyes glittered, giving the impression of intelligence. In a blink, she realized it was just a trick of the light reflecting off the stone. She needed to get a grip, nothing peculiar here ... just her imagination. She marched to the front door and using the heavy door knocker, gave three quick raps on the wooden door.

When no one answered, she knocked again and then tried the handle. The latch clicked when she touched the metal causing the door to swing open. Walking in, she called out, "Hello, anyone home? Mr. Woodward?" Almost to herself she added in a quiet voice, "Anyone at all?"