Bourbon Street, midnight, October 31st. The nightlife on Bourbon is just coming into full swing. A throng of costumed celebrants fill the street. You enjoy the first true hint of winter in the south, a cold, caressing breeze that seems a luxury after the long hot season past.

But tonight is different somehow. Tonight the lights and crowds hold no fascination. You find yourself drawn to the side streets, the dark shop windows so familiar during the day. At midnight, they seem part of a different world. The flash and dazzle of Bourbon Street are far behind you now as you walk alone. A mannequin in the window of a deserted shop whispers as you pass, the hollow eyes of an empty mask regard you curiously. All the familiar daytime symbols of gaiety have taken on a vaguely sinister quality.

Yes, it has occurred to you that it might be prudent to turn back, to rejoin the throngs of tourists and locals costumed for their revels, but only a scant block away a single open shop door beckons. The pleasant chill in the air has taken on a biting quality, and the wind gusts stronger. You draw your coat closer around you and think how pleasant it might be to step inside for awhile.

As you approach the door, the cold becomes almost unbearable,
and the wind rises to a howl...

Will you follow your hope of warmth and
ENTER,
or will you heed the quiet scream of instinct and rush
HOME?