The house looked right and felt right to Dr. Louis Creed – rambling, old, unsmart and comfortable. A place where the family could settle and the children could grow, play and explore. Only the occasional big truck grinding up through the gears on the two lane interstate highway and hammering down the long gradients growled an intrusive note of threat. But behind the house and away from the road was safe.  Just a carefully cleared path up into the woods where generations of local children had processed with the solemn innocence of the young, taking with them their dear departed pets for burial. The simple little markers in the clearing told their story: Marta Our Pet Rabit, Hannah The Best Dog That Ever Lived, Smucky the Cat He Was Obediant…A sad place but surely a safe place. Not a place that would seep into your dreams to wake you, sweating with fear, shouting, full of fear and foreboding….