Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, softer even than the dry leaves that rattled across the yard below. But there was a desperation to her plea that was normally reserved for prayers offered by the bedsides of the dying. A tone of trembling exasperation that came when faith had all but disappeared and only the longing for a miracle remained. She repeated the words again as if they were some sort of spell that could transport her far, far away from this dingy little house with its fading paint and crooked shutters."I invite you in, I invite you in, I invite you in . . . please, please come for me. Please. I invite you in."-From The Test of Darkness by William Todd Rose