The gate

If one walked along Highway 2 that night, they'd say the house looked like an tombstone in an abandoned cemetary. It wasn't big enough to be a mansion, yet too big to simply be called a house and in the fog, one could see it's eyes gleeming, like a beast ready to strike at it's prey. Though it had been empty for nearly twenty years, it didn't look it. And to the eyes of the woman watching from deep in the woods, something was coming back, something that hadn't been there in the town in twenty years. She leaned her head back moaning with a mixture of dread and arousal as she knew instinctively what it would mean, both to her and the town, as well as the church, although an outsider would never know.
She moaned as the wind started whipping through the area that only surrounded the house, whipping off tree branches long dead. Broken glass from windows broken long ago began flying.

The house was breathing again, for the first time in twenty years, the house was breathing.