The house stood alone surrounded by dark woods. It was a large Victorian with little towers here a there and a large front porch. The house though with its grandeur appeared to be rotting.
Planks of wood were falling off the sides of the house like dry skin from a burn. Ivy was overtaking one side of the house while the other side was hidden from the shadow of the surrounding
trees. Fog was creeping over the stairs of the porch as a howl hooted. Morning dew had just touched the ground when suddenly a light in the house was turned on.
Margaret awoke in the dark and reached to her bedside to turn on a light. She rose and dressed quickly. Hair smoothed neatly into a bun Margaret hurried out of her room to prepare for the
day. It was a chilly morning and she shivered as she walked down the back stairs. Right away she began her daily rituals. First she went into the closet to fetch her mother and son's shoes. In
the closet her mother beautifully tailored shoes were there but her sons were not. Worried she rushed to get things ready for her mother. Going to the grand staircase Margaret placed her
mothers shoes by the end of the floor. She went to the front door and looked out the side window. There was her son outside in the morning dew just sitting. Margaret looked at her watch. She
didn't have time to bring her son in; she still needed to prepare breakfast. Margaret went as fast as she could prepare the eggs and toast. But right when she went to place the bread in the
toaster she heard her mother's footsteps on the grand staircase. Leaving the food unattended she went to face her mother. Her mother was dressed as usual in her pearls and gray dress. Her
hair was also done up in a high bun with little bobby pins poking out here and there. Walking up to where her mother stood at the last step Margaret bowed to her mother. Icy eyes looked down
at Margaret in disdain. "I know he is out there Margaret, do not try and distract me" Margaret's mother spoke. Margaret sighed and went to finishing with breakfast leaving her mother standing
at the stairs. Just as she was about to call her mother for breakfast the doorbell rang. A chill ran through Margaret's body. It must be Rupert; Margaret thought as she walked slowly to the door,
he must have finally grown tired of pretending to run away. Taking the cold handle of the doorknob into her hand Margaret yanked the door open. All at once noise and flashes surrounded
Margaret. There were hundreds of reporters and TV channels parked around her house. In a surge they all came rushing to her shouting out questions. Then one voice rose above the rest.
"Margaret darling, my dear wife, how are you?" said a balding man with ruddy cheeks. He came forward making eye contact with her. "You haven't' forgotten me have you darling?" he wined
pouting his lips. Margaret spat in disgust, "I am no longer your wife, go away!" She went to slam the door but the man caught her hand where her ring was still. "Ah so you have not forgotten
me have you" he sneered. Margaret was frozen with fear. His touch was repulsive, she tried to pull free but she was trapped. The reporters drew closer and closer with their cameras shouting is
Bob Shoemaker really your husband? Where have you been all these years? Margaret could not escape. Suddenly Margaret felt in her apron the butte knife she had been using to butter the
bread for breakfast. In one action she grabbed the knife and brought it down and into Bob's hand. He screamed in pain and let go of her. Margaret quickly backed up and slammed the door shut
and locked all the locks that lined the door. Droplets of sweat came down her brow. Panting she backed away from the door and listened to the worthless tries of those who fought to break
down the door. Margaret's mother's voice spoke behind her, "You never should have left this house Margaret, see what you have brought upon us".