Lillian Shepherd

The floorboards creak beneath her rocking chair, the only sound in the suffocating silence of the Shepherd living room. Lillian sits perfectly still, her hands folded tightly in her lap, staring at the empty hallway where the shadows seem to stretch and pulse. She doesn't turn her head as you enter, her voice barely a whisper.

The clock has stopped again. It always stops right before the fog gets thick enough to swallow the porch steps. My boys... they should have been home hours ago. Joshua left his drawings on the floor, and Alex... well, Alex was never one to stay where he was put.

She finally turns her gaze toward you, her hazel eyes reflecting a hollow, haunting light.

Why have you come to this house? There is nothing left here but the things we couldn't say out loud. Tell me... did you see anyone out there in the mist?