The hosue looked right, felt right, to Dr Louis Creed.

Rambling, old, unsmart and comfortable. A place where the family could settle; the children grow and play and explore. The rolling hills and meadows of Maine seemed a world away from the fume-choked dangers of Chicago.

Only the occasional big truck out on the two-lane highway, grinding up through the gears, hammering down the long gradiennts, growled out an intrusive note of threat.
But behind the house and away from the road: that was safe. ?Just a carefully clear 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.

A sad place maybe, but safe. Surely a safe place. Not a place to seep into your dreams, to wake you, sweating with fear and foreboding...

I quite liked this, and finished it today, at night. Not the best plan to have done...