It was a cold dark and rainy night. The rain making haste, and the haste making frost on the windows of the old Ebert Mansion on Willow Street.
Crash, boom, bash, there was a rap on the door.. As the door crept open, and the cold dark rainy air crept in, a fire began to brew in the minds of the homeowners.
Who was at the door. Who was looking for who. Perhaps it was Sarah Pickybottom, perhaps she had finally returned.
Then, out of nowhere, they came a