The reached the middle of the marketplace, the room forming into more of a circle. In the center was a large kiosk stand with lights and noisemakers to attract attention. Past the kiosk, four wide steps led up to two elevators. The doors were large and silver, with no buttons or indicators of how to board them. Owen knew where the elevators went, and what they led to. The elevators was the goal of their group, it was their destination. Owen led his group toward the steps that led to the dual elevators, making his way to the steps. As he placed his foot on the first step, one of the elevator doors made an intrusive “ding”. Shortly after, the double doors opened slowly and silently. Inside was a small group of people. Owen stopped dead on the stair, unable to move or speak. He could only stare at the sight before him, both unable to take his eyes off the sight, and unable to keep looking at the same time. In the elevator was the man he feared most. Around him were a group of his. " Is it not my house?" said Phillip, a note of real anger in his voice. He stood at her night table, looking over her combs and perfumes, his delicate pianist's fingers touching them, as if curious to test whether they were solid."Yes," said Penelope, her voice dull. "It is. But what if —"Then she screamed and Phillip jumped and she ran from the window into his arms. "What’s wrong?" There's someone out here!" said Penelope. "Someone staring into my window, I saw him!"Phillip frowned. "Probably your imagination." It wasn't!" said Penelope, pulling back, actually striking him on the chest. "There was a man out there. But he wasn't a man, really. He looked strange...horrible." She shuddered. Phillip was about to say something more, but there came a bump and a crash from just outside. "You see!" said Penelope. Phillip went to the doors and unfastened them. Penelope backed away. "Phillip, don't go out there. You didn't see him, he was —" Wait here," said Phillip. The night air was limp and.
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