Midwinter Mystery - The Town of No Return - Prologue

_{The Town of No Return -} Prologue

_{It was deep into midwinter, and the woods were heavy with a foreboding sense of death, that permeated the atmosphere of the chilling early  morning. The wood  - for the most part -was nothing more than just a collection of various shades of grey, punctuated by the odd coniferous tree, or two, with some of the more evergreen shrubs to offer the slightest resistance to the colourless scene. The rising sun hung low on the skyline as it's heavily filtered rays attempted to break through the skies freezing bleak shroud, with only minimal effect, to awaken another day - minus any of it's life-affirming warmth.}

_{But, despite this chilly tableau, the lower areas of the woodland, were showing signs that it's snowy covering was in retreat, a fact wasted on the small, furry, inhabitants, who were still fully committed to their ritual states of hibernation, as if they knew, deep down, that this phenomenon was just a temporary polar ceasefire.}

_{The raw, morning air was motionless, as if unable to move due to being saturated with the damp, freezing cold. Nothing was stirring, there was just the grey and the deathly silence. Then, from out of no-where, a crow suddenly swept down, cawing as it dove into the newly exposed wet leaves on the ground. It cawed once more, while it's head flitting sharply around surveying the surroundings and for any tell-tale movement in the undergrowth, then it plunged itself – violently - beneath the layer of leaves, and began tossing and turning the earth into the air, as it began the search for hidden morsels of food. Then, as sharply as it had began, it ceased. It's head shot to the surface as if it had sensed some unseen presence or danger, it cried out again and launched itself into the air, it's fast, powerful wings, flapping wildly as it took flight, disturbing the leaves it left behind. This radical displacement of the immediate landscape, revealed a foreign body – or rather a part of one – re: one upturned, frozen human hand, it's gnarled, grey condition was self-evident that life had long since slipped through it's icy fingers.}

_{The crow had only removed it's self a few feet away, deciding to take refuge on an old, warped, rudely constructed signpost. Once more it commenced it's haunting lament, which almost seem to echo against the trees themselves, as it shattered the unearthly peace. Then it began to pace, slowly but steady, along the top of the wooden sign, dis-lodging the last of the covering snow, and there crudely etched into the wood, in red, was an arrow pointing the way, and underneath this it simply read: Mistry – Dead Ahead .}

_{The Mistry Files..coming soon}