“Once upon a time...” Rob paused for a moment and smiled wryly, suddenly recalling memories of his grandmother when he was a young boy telling him “Now then Robert, always start your day with 'Once upon a time' because that way you can be sure it will end with 'happily ever after'.” That's what he needed, a 'happily ever after' ending to this day.

The snow continued to fall thick and soft, so deceptively picturesque, masking the reality of a bitter piercing cold which struck right through to the bone. Almost at the end of his patrol Rob trod carefully on the treacherous ground, limping slightly. Ice had formed beneath the soft blanket of snow and twice now he had almost lost his footing, the second time painfully wrenching his ankle.

The icy streets were completely deserted as the good citizens of the town took refuge in their warm homes. Rob glanced at his watch. Soon he'd be joining them. Just another half hour to go and then he could return home to a hot bath, dry clothes and a night curled up in his favourite armchair with a good book and glass of wine.

Looking up he saw the lights of the old inn ahead, glowing warm and inviting, seductive in their promise of good food, a roaring fire and pleasant companionship. He paused for a moment, savouring the conjured images when suddenly he frowned, aware of something jarring, out of place. What was it? He scanned the scene again, puzzled and uneasy.

Golden light spilled like sweet treacle through the open doors of the inn, warm and welcoming, so what could possibly be wrong? And then he had it, breath catching in his throat as, instinctively, his hand reached for his weapon. On a night like tonight the inn doors were wide open!

Straining, throat dry, Rob listened for the sound of clinking glasses, music, soft conversation, laughter, anything. There was nothing to be heard, nothing, just the open inn doors beckoning him to enter as around him snow fell like tattered ghostly shrouds.

Shifting his grip on his night-stick, Rob cautiously approached the inn whilst scanning the area for any signs of danger. He paused at the threshold, pulses racing as adrenaline surged through his body. “Come on” he chided himself. What could possibly be wrong in this little sleepy hamlet?

For the three months that he'd been living and working here the most exciting thing he'd had to deal with was when Billy McCready's goat had got loose and destroyed old lady Brownlow's rose garden. This was little Hampton, for heavens' sake, not some crime infested metropolis.

Rob paused for a moment, took a deep breath and entered the inn's lounge. He was greeted by an empty room, not a soul in sight, the eeriness of the situation underscored by the incongruousness of the cheery crackle of logs settling in the large fireplace.

Swiftly Rob examined the room. Half full glasses were on the bar counter and tables. He felt an icy trickle down his spine as his eyes alighted on a cigarette resting in an ashtray, smoke still curling like a spectral finger towards the ceiling. Where the hell was everyone?

Suddenly, for a second time tonight he was transported back to his childhood, and “THE DREAM!” The dream that at age nine had terrified him so utterly and completely. In it he saw himself returning home from school to a completely deserted house. He had run frantically from room to room calling out for his parents, becoming convinced that they had been kidnapped by a one-eyed alien monster who was now lurking in the shadows, waiting to eat him. Rob shook himself abruptly, no time for childhood terrors now, he was a man, with a man's job to do.

To be continued...