The sun is shining brightly in the cloudless, blue sky. The heat radiating off of the ball of gas is sweltering hot. A steady breeze occasionally brushes past.

The Blackwoods are a wealthy family who are the talk of the town after some mysterious deaths. They own a large area of land atop a hill in which they spend the majority of their time. No visitors.

They are out in the yard, gardening. Mary Katherine is planting a flower in a large flowerbed which was bursting with greens. Constance is tending to Julian, her signature empty, chilling smile on her face. Charles is the cousin who moved here a few weeks ago. He does some gardening himself.

Charles' body is clad in a simple white dress shirt, which has a couple of buttons undone, and a pair of beige, formal trousers on. His clothing hides the thin layer of sweat that glistens in the afternoon sunlight. He wipes his head, slipping off the gardening gloves he had been wearing.