Throughout the house sat an eerie feel, one that wasn’t seen ever before. One that felt like a thick fog had settled down for the night and wasn’t prepared to move for at least a good decade.

But that wasn’t the biggest problem, that problem was far from seen as the world had recently changed, but what was it? Was it the cold we usually felt throughout the month of February or was there something more?

The house was built on an old farm land, but then again haven’t most been built on something that was old? The house was a three story house, it had two and a half bathrooms, five bedrooms and a basement that was, for lack of a better term… it was scary.

George and his wife Ester had lived in the house for nearly a decade, they had bought it from an older gentlemen who had since passed away. He was the third generation of his family to live in the house, a house his great grandfather had built.

Construction of the house lasted a few years, and tragedy surrounded the entire scene. It was rumored that two workers had died when a side of the house somehow fell down atop of them. But that was just a rumor and only linked together by some sketchy stories from the local neighbors. It however seemed more realistic with two tombstones in the local cemetery that listed two different men had died on the same day in and around the years that the house was being built.

This story had surrounded the town and been pushed throughout generation to generation, as a sort of fable that the old would warn the young about. As to sort of scare them away from this house, from this house that had been built on a old farm.

George didn’t believe in this story, he thought it was a bad joke. But he had heard the stories before, years ago when he was a high school student at the high school the next town over. When he and a bunch of friends found a party in the woods, a couple of the other high school’s students had told him of this story. A couple of his friends thought it was a realistic tale, but he thought it was just the other people trying to scare them off.

The tale turned numerous times, it went from just a couple of random workers had died during the construction of the house to that the guy who built the house had a dungeon and killed people. The amount of people he had killed was a endless amount of people, at least three to four people a year. It usually consisted of students from that local high school who had graduated but hadn’t made plans for life after school. The school guidance counselor used this as a motivational tool. He would tell students they don’t want old man Bob to get a hold of him.

The funny part was the man who built the house wasn’t named Bob at all.

Fast forward throughout all the years of the house been constructed and we return back to this night, February 13th. George and Ester now living in this house, the house who was constructed by a man not named Bob, a house that didn’t have a history of death and torture, a house built on old farm lands. And a house that now had this strange feeling sitting atop over it.

The night before Valentine’s day, was a day that George would always love to surprise Ester with flowers, chocolates and other presents. It was the night he first proposed to her thirteen years earlier. Back then she was a waitress at the local Italian restaurant and with it being the night before Valentine’s Day she had a very busy night, the entire town had come out to eat. And her feet that night, they felt like it. She was in such pain, she had actually called George to pick her up from work because she felt she couldn’t walked the three blocks it would take to get back to their apartment.

So at about a few minutes before eleven o’clock after picking her up from work, he opened the passenger side of the car where she sat and prospered to her. At first she thought it was a joke. But she suddenly realized it was real when George’s eyes started to water. He had loved her throughout high school, and they finally started dating the summer before their senior year.

She fell right out of the car and into his arms, they fell onto the cold ground as she screamed “yes” as loud as she could. They would be married the following February 13th. The wedding was a small wedding, in which that same Italian restaurant would cater it.

Every February 13th they would celebrate with a bottle of wine, the first few years it wasn’t any classy wine, but over the last few it started to become a better class of wine. A bottle from Italy was to be opened tonight and they would enjoy it as they just enjoyed each other in front of the fire place.

That was the plan. George had been thinking of this years plan for the past year, he had been working on different plans. He thought maybe they would go to Florida and visit Disney or maybe they would go on a cruise ship. But he knew whatever they would do, the best place to be was at home in each others arms.

But that was all before the knock….