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Somehow, I always found myself coming back to the same place. The darkness there seemed to know my name. The small desolate school house had sat abandoned for a little over half a century now. The scorch marks on the walls and ceilings told its story. I found it quite by accident the first time. I was walking through the country side near my favorite cemetery when the wind changed course and pushed me into a dense wooded area. Walking back almost fifty yards I found it. The first time I sat on the floor and gathered my forces. Each time I became more and more enthralled with what I had found, each time experiencing a little more and experimenting further and further.

I had been going to my little shelter for about a month before I ever discovered its secret. I had been laying on the small stage in the largest of the rooms, the one with the most evidence of fire. I had been staring up at where the ceiling used to be wishing for the woods to come and find me, and before I knew it I was sleeping the deepest sleep I have ever felt. I was having a beautiful dream of children smiling, but soon I felt the first stirring droplets of rain moistening my outstretched body. Laughing, I extended my tongue and caught the water in my mouth, arching my back against the smooth hard wood floor. Soon my entire body was soaked and movement became strained and heavy. Then the room filled with a moist heat that seemed to make my drenched skin boil. I became dizzy and was forced to lay perfectly still.

The heat crept in through the rear window and climbed the stairs to ...

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