The house was plain, yet beautiful. It was only two stories, but it had an elegant simplicity to it. It was a pale blue, faded with years of rain and snow falling on it. It had a small walkway leading up to it with randomly shaped stones that the little girl would hop along, as if touching her soft, white shoes to the ground would harm her. Just this Sunday she had been seen hopping those stepping-stones in her pale pink dress and polished white shoes all the way up to the plain, white front door. Inside one of the many curtained windows the father could be seen playing with his little girl while the mother sat in the corner and sewed up a hole in the girl's red sweater. The picture of an average American family, yet so amazingly un-average. And there was the man again. The man with the mask was the same as the man spinning his giggling daughter. The little boy watched from his spot on the sidewalk across from the house, remembering another house with another family. A happy family like this one with a smiling mother and a much younger child, a little baby boy. The man was laughing with his daughter.
"You'll see soon." He said in his quiet, angelic voice, "You wouldn't be so happy if you knew what you've started." He said, as if the man could hear him through the window and across the street, "Your wife wouldn't look at you like that if she knew, Bobb."
He watched the happy family for a few minutes longer, "Repent, Bobb, that's all you need to do. Repent, Bobb, or soon you'll wish you had."
