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.