He walked into the small cottage without an invitation. The wind whistled as the door opened. He passed the door and set foot into the miniscule cottage with no hint of hesitation.

His long black coat covered every part of his body, with the exception of his black shoes which were visible when he took each step. The sound of his footsteps on the old and worn oak floor rumbled throughout the building. The only other sound was his breathing; the type of breathing that caused a shiver to run down your spine, the type of breathing which disregarded the 'fight' in the fight-or-flight response. In contrast to the darkness he wore, were three gold buttons which did not seem to fit in – they appeared lonely, forced to be singled out. His tall and dark figure halted at the sight of the young woman sat at the dainty table. This was not part of the plan. The plan was simple: return, retrieve and leave. However, it was no longer simple. This young woman complicated it.

Harriet was confused as to why a stranger dressed in all black had entered her home. She wanted to scream to acquire help from her neighbours but she knew that was a bad idea. Shocked and scared, she stood up and contemplated running.

Almost as if he could read her thoughts, he spoke. "If you are smart, you wouldn't run." His voice was like a raven; dark and mysterious yet elegant. His simple words echoed throughout the cottage and much to his surprise, the woman listened to him. "I can assure you that I am not here to harm you. I am here to retrieve something, then leave."

Harriet was unsure if his words were the truth – how could she believe a stranger who had welcomed himself into her home? Was she to speak in return, or stay quiet? Despite the fact that she was frozen with fear and confusion, she remained calm on the outside, and refused to show this man that she was threatened by him.

In next to no time, he took several steps forward deeper into the cottage but strangely it was if he knew the route. His hand covered in black leather, touched a simple yet delicate ceramic decoration on the stone mantelpiece, above the roaring fire. Harriet watched him with fascination. The man scanned the small building with familiarity showing on his face – there was no curiosity, simply familiarity. The wind continued to howl unpleasantly, forcing the rain into the windows. Harriet found it strange that there was such harsh weather in the month of August.

"Would you be so kind as to show me where Francis keeps his valuables?" The raven voice spoke again and Harriet found herself hugging and defending herself from the nasty chill. Francis was never home and she longed for his company. She wasn't very familiar with her husband's friends but she was certain that the man in her house was not his friend. She hesitated and ever so slightly gestured to the wooden cabinet by the kitchen. The tall and mysterious man glided over to the cabinet and smiled. "Thank you, dear."

Harriet opened her mouth and spoke for the first time; however, it was a risk since she didn't know the dangers that he possessed. "What are you looking for?" Her soft voice hit him like a dagger to his chest. She carried so much innocence that he was prepared to stop the mission in order to ensure her safety. Although he was careful not to involve her too much, she was practically the biggest part of it already.

"Something that I have been sent to retrieve. Do not fuss. I will be out of here shortly." He promised. Maybe he promised that for her sake, or maybe his own.

His hand enclosed over a gold locket; one that appeared too old to be a part of this era. A relieved sigh escaped his throat as he slid the locket inside his coat. As he backed away from the cabinet, he took in every detail of the scene. The wooden chairs, the oak floor, the dark curtains that protected the windows and the lit candles scattered throughout. He turned to face Harriet as he approached the front door. "I do apologise." He said.

Harriet never saw him again. Francis never returned. The cabinet remained with the absence of the locket. There was no name to his face. She simply named him The Visitor.