With the setting sun falling behind the stenciled outline of the mountain tops, a strange silence blanketed the small town. Crickets suddenly lost their calls to the strange sense of calm quickly overtaking the town. Street lights flickered and popped in the growing darkness. Slithering through the main street was a dense fog that filtered through the cracks and crevices created by man. The air grew stale as the Long talons of fog sculpted the small town's landscape into a foroboding wasteland. If it weren't for the nearing dead of night, the street would have been littered with the see of flesh running like ants to pick through their day of chores.<br/><br/>A town founded by the conservative values of bible thumpers who still struggled to terrify those who would challenged their ideals, it was the ideal location for such an event. It was the presense of such repression that called forth the strange fog. It was the overwhelming call of the repressed that screamed for a release that they would suffer for.<br/><br/>As the gaping mouth of the sun lit up the main street, the little town once again jumped to life. It seemed that the source of conflict was a small shop that appeared at the edge of main street. The windows were blacked out by a strange film never used by the shop owner's of the town. The glowing neon "Open" sign was already becoming the talk of those up in arms. All be it strange and contraversial, no one attempted to set foot in the strange shop.