Some of the women were becoming restless waiting word from their husbands and were beginning to irritate Joe with their endless questions and pleas to go check on their men. His excuses, which had held them off for awhile, were no longer working and he knew eventually he was going to have to take some sort of action to get them off his back. He looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was beginning to fade and that nightfall would be approaching quicker then he cared to think about. He wasn't exactly sure what to do but the one thing he did know was there was no way he was leading a bunch of females through the woods after dark. Surprising even himself he said, "Alright ladies, while we still have some daylight, let's go to the house and see what's going on; but we're NOT going in, understood?" Bonnie spoke up, "I don't think we should Joe. Hank said for us to wait here and even asked you to stay here with us. I think we should stay here and just wait it out." But her opinion was pointless. Joe was determined to keep these women quiet and the women seemed ready to do as Joe said. With Joe leading the way, the women followed to the house. They stood around the porch looking at the house, some of the women calling out for their husbands. "Will you pipe down? They'll be out when they can be. Just stand here, relax and keep the chit chat down," Joe said, trying to reason with them. Violet, who was Frank's wife, a mouthy old broad in Joe's opinion who needed an attitude adjustment, blared out at him, "I won't hush and it will be a cold day in hell before the likes of you can make me. My husband is in there and I'm going in and see if I can find him, do you hear me? I'm going in and there isn't anything you can do about it." Joe growled under his breath and was about to protest when in the distance he heard the faint cry of a dog. He peered in to the woods surrounding the house to see if he saw any movement. He saw nothing except a low thick fog moving in. The hair on his arms stood up as he remembered the previous Halloweens and the strange but very real disappearances of his daughter and the other girls, and the fog which was so thick every year that one couldn't see their hand in front of their face. He turned to his wife, "Brenda, go try the door, let's see if we can go in." Brenda walked slowly and nervously to the door, turned the knob and the door creaked open. She turned and looked at the rest, a look of dread on her face. The women had become quiet as they looked at Joe for some sort of reassurance but all they found there was the same relentless fear that tied their stomachs in knots. Joe Sever, the man Hank Logan detested, stood there among the women, trembling and unable to restrain the clutching fear that ripped and tore at his heart. Violet was the first to enter the kitchen area, the rest of the women falling in after her with Joe and Brenda taking the rear. They looked around at the musty smelling kitchen and most covered their noses and mouths. The air permeated with an awful stench. Viloet led the way in to the library and then in to the room where just a short time ago, Hank Logan had found the tattered rag of his daughter's night shirt. There was nothing here to see, no furniture, nothing but dirty hardwood floors and dingy curtains, most just shreds of fabric now. To the right they noticed a narrow stairway that led upstairs. In complete silence the women and Joe Sever began climbing them as the old wood creaked and groaned under each footstep. The shadows of darkness had begun their dance across the walls and floors as they reached the top of the stairs and entered in to a long hallway with several rooms off to each side. There was no lights to see by so they all turned on their flashlights and made their way to the first room. The door was shut and as Violet turned the knob the door creaked open. It was a bedroom, possibly a little girl's room at one time as the once ruffled curtains that appeared to be pink in better times swayed slightly in the breeze around the broken window. The bed was neatly made with a faded pink spread. A small oak desk on the opposite wall caught Violet's attention. Upon it laid a hand written letter. Unlike the curtains and the spread on the bed, the letter appeared to be recently written, there was no evidence of years of neglect. The paper was crisp and new, the ink almost fresh. She picked it up and with trembling hands read aloud the bold print...."GET OUT! GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~~~~~~~~~~~~