He sat on his leather armchair by the warming fireplace, his frail body glistening from the light of the fire. He swirled his red wine in his glass, the finest wine only from the biggest chateau in France. He took a sip of the common mans salary. He then placed his glass on his mahogany table. His raw boned sticks for fingers left a shadow on the wall behind from the light of the fire. The shadow looking like a spider ready to pounce on top of the wrinkly old mans head. The man got up from his chair leaving a vague imprint on the chair. He stretched his limbs with each joint cracking as he did. The old man then went up to his moose head hunting trophy and stroked its fur with his slender hands. He recieved a knock at the door soon after, the old man rushed to the door and opened it, there was no one there. The old man turned to the left to look at his mirror only to see someone standing next to him, but when he checked either side of him no one was there. He went to get a drink of water to calm him down but once again the intruder was there, staring at him. The infiltrator seemed as bewildered as the old man.