July 2022
The night is cold as she walks through the streets that she is supposed to be raising her daughter in. She snuggles her little bundle of joy closer to her while trying to stay warm herself. Her name is Heather Rosa Phillipson. Her husband was killed after her daughter was born. Her daughter may be eleven almost twelve years old, but she is a very light child. She had fallen asleep while they were at the quarry. Heather pulls her daughter closer as she moans in her sleep. Heather takes her shawl off and wraps it around her daughter, pulling her closer.
"Don't worry, baby," Heather whispers. "I'm almost to the car."
Suddenly, the sky lights up and a big flash of light hits the ground at lightning speed and disappears. She pulls her daughter even closer in a protective gesture and quickens the pace. She gets an eerie feeling as she nears the crashed house on 29 Neibolt Street. She stops in front of the remains and looks at the pile of debris. She watches as a bright white light shines, almost blinding her, then disappears as if the debris is absorbing it. She gasps as she sees a ghostly clown-like form grin evilly at her and she turns and runs, holding her daughter really close. She gets to the car and puts her daughter gently on the back seat. She gets in the drivers' seat, shuts the door, starts the car, and drives away, not looking back as she hears a distant clownish laugh in the distance.
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