It was a warm summer day when the red Pontiac pulled up in front of the Levetsville manor. The wind that day seemed to blow in an odd direction, it seemed that wherever you went, a gust came in your way. Faint laughter seemed to dance across the wind, the laughter of children who no longer lived. The children of Levetsville manor.
As the car door swung open and a tiny figure stepped out, the wind abruptly stopped. Out of the drivers seat stepped a tall, muscular man who seemed to like his car more then his wife, this showed as he gently shut the door and gave the hood an affectionate pat.