Prologue

          The eastern horizon was a dark, gray blue with clouds that smudged it with a dull pink that was even grayer. The constant shade weaved through the skies from east to west as the skies clung to the last bit of the suns light as it moved behind the horizon. The clouds, however, and the lack of black to contrast the pale silver of the stars and moon, made them impossible to see, yet it was dark enough to mask figures with long shadows. The alleys of the city below were pitch black, and due to the chill left by the rain earlier that day, city sounds of people talking, footsteps tapping, and cars roaring were seldom, and the cloud-lightened darkness led to the streetlights being not quite as necessary as they are on most days. However, the effects of the damp chill and still darkness were to be accomplices to the occurrences to happen on this night, this night with far-too-seldom lights.

* * *

        She stood before her bedroom mirror, that seemed to be angled up towards her in an admiring way as she shed her work clothes, a modest, gray vest and skirt, knee-length. She had a late-night date with a man whom she'd been going out with for the past month, though, she would only admit to herself that the attraction was physical, rather than an emotional attraction she wished to commit to for a long period of time. She looked out of her window at the dark street, lit only by the occasional streetlight, however, all the other houses were unlit silhouettes behind the glare of the aligned beacons. She searched for the sight of her date along the stretching sidewalks, but saw no one.

        She had suggested that when he got there, they could go for a late-night walk. However, it was a plan she hoped would not be upheld as she lit various candles placed strategically around the room. She was, though she hated to admit it, a romantic, to an extent that did not reach beyond the (usually proverbial) bedroom door.

        As she thought of her date, she couldn't help but giggle in, what she thought, was a very prepubescent and immature way. However, she couldn't help it. He was funny, funny in the way where his most comedic moments were when he wasn't even trying. An alluring personality, though, not quite alluring enough that she would consider him as anything more than a passionate, but short-lived tryst. 'Like a candle' she thought, as she shook her finger, extinguishing the flame that licked her fingernail.

        All through their relationship, which had been going on for about 3 weeks now, she assumed that he saw her just as she saw him; shallowly and with strictly attraction to appearances, and the fleeting enjoyment of their uncommitted company. She saw it as a mutual partnership she wished to use to the fullest until she felt a need for commitment, if she ever did.

    She checked herself in the mirror from multiple angles. She stopped at a side profile of her body, and put her hand on her stomach, inhaling, momentarily, and seeing how much thinner she could make herself look without appearing to be trying too hard. Though, there was no point, as her entire body was appealingly thin. Not too thin, just enough for her stomach to be tucked in at a thinner level than her ribs, and her arms and legs to be slightly muscular, and only that. She 'hmm'ed as she pondered what course of action she ought to take when her date arrived.

        Now that she thought about it, though she had regarded this before, she did think that her lover did have a deep side, an aura that was different from his egotistical but playful attitude, but he worked to conceal it, and she saw no reason to even put in the effort to try and uncover locked dungeons; God knows whats down there, anyway. Skeletons. Her thoughts silenced.

        Right then, before her mind could take up the mental entanglement yet again, she heard a knock at the door. She grinned, looked at herself in the mirror one last time, before turning to her door and running into the upstairs hallway and down the stairs, skipping a step, on occasion. Then, right as her feet touched the floor, she slowed and stopped in front of the front door. She smoothed her hair and looked down at herself once more as she took the brass, contoured handle, and with her other hand, as she noticed a candle on the set of drawers by the doorway, she snapped her finger above the wick and set it aflame, and then flicked the light switch next to it into the 'off' position. She sighed deeply, reinforcing the desire she wished to project, before slowly pressing down on the handle and pulling.

        As the door opened, she began to say, in the most appealing voice she could, "Sorry to keep you-" her voice suddenly lost its prior conviction, and her last word came out quiet with unnerved emotion. "-Waiting."

    Along the dimly lit suburban street, there was a moment of complete silence except for the sound of footsteps that could have been a mile away, echoing through the quiet night, that was suddenly shattered by a sound that those who heard it best described as a caterwaul, that woke most of the neighbors - but they shrugged it off.

        There was a dull thud, and a click...as the door locked.

        An exhalation of breath as the candle on the drawers by the doorway was blown out.

        Later, some would say, as the police questioned them whether they'd heard anything, that they did not even begin to dream that it could have been a murder - not now. The dead can't be murdered, 'We thought it was an animal'. So, they fell back asleep while their alarm clocks shone with the numbers 11:13. Their regret, though short-lived, was passionate that day, as they all wished they'd called the police themselves, or had at least investigated what had happened. It was a sad candle of a day.

        That is not to say that someone did not call the police, someone did. They did so at 11:28, 2 minutes prior to the planed time for the date that would never occur, for someone had arrived, the fourth visitor to the home. He was 2 minutes too early for the date, 13 too late for salvation.

        Within minutes, the street lit up with flashing lights and the yowl of sirens, that appeared to startle a flock of crows that burst from the nearby tree which loomed over the porch where a shocked man stared down at his, now very late, date.