As you enter the house, the winds are picking up. The door slams shut behind you, the gust blowing out the candles on the table inside. Dark shadows crawl across the room, cast by the waning light of the dying sun. The windows begin to be splattered with the tick-tock sound of rain. You look around the room but Rufus, your dog, is not here to greet you as usual. You go to the kitchen to see if they are already busy cooking dinner. As the door creeks open, you see a the farmer's wife on the floor, clothes spattered with blood. Next to her, Rufus lies with his tongue lolling from his mouth, his body torn apart at its centre, innards trailing across the wooden floorboards. You are overwhelmed with horror and disgust. A nauseating sickness makes your head spin.