A deep ebony silk crept its way through the thick, gray clouds. It slipped in like evening turning to night, but it was too early for stars to twinkle in the sky. The occasional lightning strike highlighted the waves and curves of stubborn clouds and with canceled plans and early dinners, it also highlighted the streets rendered empty below.
With each curious whisper slipped from assuming lips, the darkness dug its way deeper through the village. Then it wove its way into every resident of Townsley. The weight of it bore down on them thick and sluggish until, all at once, everyone in the village slipped into a cavernous sleep.
All but two.
For Kate Winstead and Joseph Strunk it was time to get to work.