On top of the hill stayed a old house that seems hadn't be cared for ages enduring abuse of four seasons year around. On top of that the windows were broken and wind hissed in and out of the house like a house pet dragging in all kinds of kill: dirt, dead leaves and bugs. The earth had started to take it back extending her mossy fingers and trying to take hold and the hue of paint had darkened to toasty brown as if someone had left it in the sun for a little too long. Someone indeed had. Long enough for rumors to spring out among villagers about ghosts and witches kidnapping bratty and sleepless kids at night. What haunted the house was neither witches nor magical beings but old Mister Timothy Brown and the house was his prison for being a pedophile. He moved in from city after doing his time to find from some solace in his father's land but, somehow the word got out. One fateful day when little Jimmy went missing some villagers took it upon themselves to look around in the house. Somehow things got a little too far and since then Mr. Brown lays there a zombie of routine because, neither heaven nor hell would have him.