Curiosity Killed The Rat
It was ten minutes past two when the storm that was pummeling Curtisville finally slowed to a whisper. The nearby sea became as smooth as glass, and so pale with fog that it resembled a silver-plated mirror. Once again,the whole town soon disappeared beneath a veil of gray haze.
On the other side of Azalea Street, seven-year old Marc Henshaw stirred uneasily in his sleep as he dreamt of a crowd of shadowy figures emerging from a creepy, Hobbit-like house in the middle of a dark forest. They came armed with pitchforks, scythes, axes, clubs and knives, as if they were going up against a Hollywood-type monster.
Something was wrong. Faintly, he could smell smoke and burnt meat. And what was that noise? It sounded like sparklers crackling and popping.