It was evening, and quiet, too quiet… like the calm before the storm. I heard some grown-ups use that phrase. I guess it's calm before storms in some places, but not in London.
I couldn't tell what storm was coming, though. I just had a bad feeling about that old house I was in. I had an even worse feeling about that forest and the fog surrounding me. They just didn't feel… natural.
I distracted myself by looking around the house. Not much was left of it: just an old fireplace, some stone mounds where the corners of rooms used to be, part of an old floor, short parts of stone walls, a broken window or two… and a lot of weeds and grass growing everywhere.
I looked closer at the fireplace. Nothing was in it, except for some old soot and some dirt. Pulling away some grass on the right of the fireplace, I saw something unusual in the stones that made it up. There was a little man etched into a stone that was larger than the others, a little archer.
And then, the storm broke. Animals started panicking in the distance. The trees in the forest started blowing, as if it was windy, but there was no wind. A horse, a big scary, black horse, stormed out of the forest. Even scarier was the man riding it. He had a big sword… and no head.
At that point, everything went black.