Mrs. Brumfield gingerly stepped out into a blinding white world. The rugged earth below was now smooth, covered with a warm, welcoming blanket of snow. The trees swayed in the gentle stirring of the wind as fine linens of white were draped about them. All was beautiful, radiant, and virgin. All, that is, except for the now faint tracks of snow, left by a little boy, leading away from the dark mahogany door which Mrs. Brumfield now stood at, surveying the situation. 'Oh Billy,' Mrs. Brumfield muttered to herself, 'Where have you run off to now?'
Inside the house, which the dark mahogany door guarded, a warm meal was beckoning her growling stomach. Hot biscuits, and crackling bacon sat softly, giving off an absolutely divine odor. Steam poured forth from hot pockets in the biscuits. Above Mrs. Brumfield, clouds, dark and threatening, released their spell of murk on the world below, and the first cracks of the day's sunlight ripped through the massive layer of clouds, and shined upon the white earth.
At that moment, a voice, small, scratchy, and seemingly unimportant, cried out in an almost inaudible tone.
'Oh my,' Mrs. Brumfield muttered to herself under her weary breath. She clumsily broke into a fast trot, then a run, and nearly slipped on the ice beneath her. The snow bounded forth under the soles of her boots in a vicious blur. The cry turned to a horrid scream. This screaming intensified to a point where one would not be able to distinguish the owner of the voice to be a boy, a girl, or a Banshee. Mrs. Brumfield continued to follow the direction of the source of the screaming when suddenly, as she turned the corner of the house, she came to a reckless halt, nearly tripping over...