A shadow

In an untread valley, stretching down twisting, foreboding road, in a green tunnel of towering trees and greenery, shrouded in a never-ending fog it lay. The gates shut and walls overrun by vines. The name on the sign long since lost. This nameless place buried in the fog stood by forgotten by all. The carefully maintained lawn lead up to a pristine old mansion, its windows dark, curtains drawn. The shrubs and hedges stand in perfect order neatly trimmed and lovingly looked after. The flower gardens filled with forget-me-nots and lillies of the valley that are watered, weeded, and sunned despite their surroundings.

The house itself is huge, old, older then time itself. It's out of place even in the past. For no houses like this have existed for centuries, mansion or otherwise. As if ripped from another time and place. Yet it is familiar. The windows are all covered so noone can see in except for one window too far up to show any details hidden in its depths.

No vines deface this building except for one the stone chimney where the vines seem to only add to the age of the place. There is no garage but the driveway loops on down into a darker place deeper into the valley.

The doors are not locked. Anyone can enter. But no one has. No one is here.