The moonlight guides us silently along the cul-de-sac. Hanging branches wrap the road in a nightly shroud. The headlights are dark, as we creep along in first gear, steady and silent like thieves in the night.
The Victorian house is the darkest on the road, most of the bulbs had burned out and never been replaced. One could be forgiven for thinking it was abandoned; the abundant flora of the overgrown garden dances with the wind in dark silhouettes. Continue reading