Ellen woke to the grating beep of an alarm clock. She was feeling particularly groggy that day; the sudden disappearance of Jackson Bezzel likely had a large part in causing it. As a reporter for the Locksville Paper, Ellen was one of the first to arrive at the scene of the death, or as the investigation called it, "a disappearance lacking key evidence". Ellen knew from the beginning that there was something incredibly wrong, something simply offputting about that decrepit old Manor. Her home was neighboring to the Lugosi Manor, though the two homes were seperated by at least one hundred feet. The day of Jackson's disappearance was an incredibly cloudy one, barely any light at all. Ellen had been out on a business trip that day, scribbling down notes about a robbery taking place on Coppola Street.

This story could make her rise above her lowly position as Junior Reporter. After all, the quiet little town of Locksville never saw much action, rather the occasional robbery. The others at the Locksville Paper never seemed to see her potential, scoffing at anyone of her demeanor as a Head Reporter. Ellen's fatal flaw was a craving, utter obsession with advancement. She was never keen on letting anyone help her, which had only worked to detriment her career if anything. This one story could be the one key that showed everyone in Locksville that she was as good a writer as any other journalist in the town. Ellen had not gotten a Major in Journalism to be passed off as another run-of-the-mill writer for a hometown newspaper after all! Her impatience growing by the second, she looked at the coffee pot fill. She finally poured a steaming cup of coffee, steam slowly rising, as she sniffed the grounds.

And then, she saw them. Those awful, glowing eyes, twitching and bulging, glowing with the brightest crimson anyone could bear, the color of blood. That same blazing feeling in her heart started, as she screamed in pain. "Oh God, please, no!" And then, as if nothing had happened at all, Ellen was sucked back into reality, on the floor in pain, having fallen in agony and dropping her coffee cup. The scalding hot coffee was spilt all over her blue robe, as her breaths grew panicked. She couldn't blink without seeing those terrible red eyes, the face shrouded in utter darkness. Her face trembling in fear, she cleaned up and changed. She took a last look in the mirror. Curly hazel hair, fair skin, not very tanned or pale, brown eyes with hints of bags underneath, and a little golden necklace bejeweled with amethyst, a heirloom from her grandmother, whom she had never known. She didn't even know her name, for her grandmother when Ellen's mother was a baby.

As she cleaned up the mess she had made, she heard the thunderous rumble of a truck coming by. She left her mess and went to the window, throwing open the crimson curtain. A moving truck had been coming down her road, towards the Lugosi Manor. 'Heh,' she thought, 'who the hell would be going to that place?' Ellen figured the people moving in had made the deal before Jackson went missing. After all, no one would actively want to go to such a frightening place. Ellen hoped dearly that the new neighbors would renovate the old Manor, for her grandmother would tell her tales of old, when the Lugosi Manor was grand, new, and pristine, now reduced to a grimy shell of its former self.

It was quite cloudy this day as well, the sun completely blanketed by a heavy gray barricade of clouds. A tall, thin man whose pale skin and eerie appearance fit perfectly with this dreary weather. His movements were too... off and disturbing, as if he were some marionette that had gained life, like Pinocchio. Ellen noted she needed to greet this new neighbor. The gruff men heading the moving process helped the man. Each one took a large wooden box, with orange furniture and decorations to adorn the house. Soon, the truck moved out as soon as it had arrived. The man walked into the Lugosi Manor, as Ellen sat down at a wooden table, typing out her article for the Jackson Bezzel Case.

It was but a few hours later that a polite, yet strong knock came to her door. Ellen walked to the door, annoyed that someone was interrupting her work. She smiled when she saw it was her new neighbor, but like a speeding car, a sense of uneasiness put her on edge around this man. Ellen always had an uncanny sense of telling the difference between good and bad people, and the new neighbor was simply to eerie to tell. His hair was black and pulled back, but his eyes bulged and twitched, a churning scarlet hue in the pupils. Slowly, a creeping smile appeared on the man's face, stretching his face into a rather disturbing grin that pierced through Ellen. However, she kept her unease hidden and said, "Hi! Uh, welcome to the neighborhood, Mr..."

"Lee," the man said, grinning and contorting his face like a madman. "Mr. Lee," Lee's way of talking was so drawling and accented, a far cry from the slight Southern accents most people in Locksville sported. "Hi, Mr. Lee! Welcome to Locksville! I was just about to come to the Manor to-" Mr. Lee put up a nimble, bony hand to shush Ellen, a hand that look like a feral claw, liable to snap and slash. "There... is no... need for you to... come to my humble... abode, Ms. Ellen... Prescott." Ellen raised two disturbed eyebrows.

"H-how did you know my name?" she said, her suspicion for this... man growing by the second. Mr. Lee looked caught, but his pale face quickly snapped into an uncanny smiling one. "I've... read your... articles in the... newspaper. Quite literate... you are, miss," His eyes bulged, as Ellen's stomach churned with fear. Ellen replied, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Lee, that's very kind."

"Any...time... miss. Are you not... going to... invite me in... side? It would... only be... polite," Mr. Lee snarled. Putting on a desperate mask of false sincerity, Ellen said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Lee, you'll have to come some other time,"

Mr. Lee snarled, and turned around, back down the porch stairs, with one last look at Ellen. And his blazing scarlet eyes were pointed directly towards her neck. Ellen closed the door and waved, as Mr. Lee walked back to the Manor, his legs resembling toothpicks, and his arms lanky and thin.