Introduction
The past is not entirely forgotten ...

Like a raven beating its wings against a cage, the echoes of childhood flaps through your mind. And once again you'll smell the stench of decay that emitted from the old house. Remember? ... The paint was peeling, the wood infested with dry rot, moldy shutters were hanging loose from rusty hinges, and some of the windowpanes were broken and reminded you of skeleton eyes (watching you).

You still wonder what might be moving invisibly through the darkness behind the jagged glass. Even now.

You are no longer afraid of the dark, of course — at any rate, not exactly. Only, you have never completely gotten over your childish fear of what might be hiding in the shadows of the night, who, or what might be waiting ... lurking.

You know very well that it's only behind the obscure tapestry of your imagination, the deep, dark place where the nightmare begins, that you encounter the alabaster-white lady, the headless horseman, the Transylvanian bat and all the other living dead, who never existed.

You know that. Yes, yes. Of course you do.

And as long as you stay away from the old, abandoned house by the pottersfield, as long as you don't break the padlock, you also know that they will never get ahold of you ...

Annika von Holdt