The sky darkens and a distant rumble can be heard. The evening has something palpable to it--something unknown. The air feels off...denser, like it's harder to breathe. Animals are behaving strangely. The trees surrounding the old town rustled in a sudden gust; perhaps talking in hushed whispers of this same feeling.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">Perceiving is quite different than understanding.</span></span>An unfamiliar voice speaks. Where did that come from? Voices just don't start talking to people.<br/><br/>Clattering sounds intrude this thought, faint at first. It grows louder until a horse carriage is seen. Wheels draw to a halt, and a man steps out onto the barren street. High street is the name, inner Marlborough, Wiltshire. The street is empty save for a lone man sitting passively on a nearby corner. Presently, the man from the carriage stands resolutely still. It strikes as a bit odd that the driver merely continued on the street, paying no mind to this man who just exited his cabin. The thought dismissed itself. No sense in dwelling on queer occurrences; the happenings in this town were notorious to outsiders.<br/><br/>The street was truly deserted, so late was the hour. Few would remain except to attend to pressing business. Leaves blow across the trodden earth, rustling eerily in the vacant space. There's not a sound in the air, and all goes quiet.<br/><br/>"Nice night, innit?" A gruff voice intoned. The lone man baulked at the sudden proximity of the man from the carriage. He hadn't heard his approach at all. Come to think of it. He couldn't even remember the carriage sounds drifting fully away.<br/><br/>"How did you--do I know you?" He broke off, questioningly. The man seemed familiar for some reason. It wasn't in his features. Something else was reminding him that he already knew this individual...somehow. It was pressing on the recesses of his mind, like a half-forgotten idea. Peculiar...<br/><br/>"How about we play a little game?" The man sneered, even hoarser than before. That voice...that was what he recognized! The one that was in his head moments ago--but, that would mean...<br/><br/><span style="color: #BF0000"><span style="font-style: italic">We are going to have so much fun.</span></span>The same voice crooned. The poor man's eyes widened, tasting true fear. He did not even have time to scream.<br/><br/>The next day no one would notice anything out of the ordinary. In fact, there was only a single trace of the meeting between the two abnormal men the previous evening. A flyer.<br/><br/><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: Vivaldi;"><div style="text-align: center;">Come one,<br/>Come all,<br/>Welcome the Grand Ball!<br/>For here the strong run for cover,<br/>And the weak stand tall.<br/><br/>If you're not afraid,<br/>Welcome to the Masquerade...</div></span></span>