The Creeping Rain The Broken Web, Part 1 The rain crept over the dark elms and the lake, over the broken plough lying useless in the field, over the dead stones; it crept like death itself coming for granny Wirren, and she knew it. She sat on the porch and listened to it rustling the leaves in the wood and pattering on the pond. "It's time." she sneered, spitting onto the worn old boards. "How do you know?" asked Spider. "I can feel him coming, girl. He's here at last." Their eyes searched the treeline and the shadow by the old gate. And then they saw him. He stood by the edge of the pond like a black ink stain on reality. He began to walk up the hill. Granny Wirren screeched with laughter. "He's here, I told you so, he's here." Spider backed against the peeling wall of the farm house, her eyes staring. "I've dreamt of you, dark man. I've seen you in my dreams!" Granny screamed into the growing rain, her old voice grating and breaking with the strain. "I see you now!" Spider wanted to run, she wanted to tear her way through the wall and hide beneath the bed, claw the pillow over her ears as she had done as a child, but she could not move, she could only stand and stare.