first morning of June of the 20st on a tuesday morning. The breeze was clear and filled with the smells of newly bloomed flowers and poppy's The air grazed against the tree leaves up in the hills where the most darkest secrets lie. Up the said street a house lived up in the highest place of the mountain. A cabin stood forth, its old wooden roofs and stairs the roof had holes in it gunshot holes along with the horrid old pine stench coming from its walls, the cent of smokes and strong alcohol.