XAVIER heard of his recent inheritance with glee. His very distant aunt had left her home for him. They had a distant relationship because he kept his distance. Even when he heard she was ailing he refused to visit. She eventually died and the house was left to him.
Xavier was a wild young man. He gambled, drank and slept around; all around. He knew most of the women in Shadow Ville in the biblical sense: married and single. He took scant care of anything, thus cycle, then motor cycle were swiftly destroyed. But he was one of the lucky few. He was born into a rich family and did not want for anything. He was also not afraid of anything. It was in this frame of mind that he travelled deep into the countryside to visit his newly acquired house.

The journey was long, stressful and uncomfortable. The roads were littered with potholes and obstacles put there to warn drivers to avoid the many craters. In the scorching heat the old mini bus lurched and pitched making its way towards the distant village. The bus was overloaded fitting 20 where only 15 should be. Xavier prayed for the journey to end. When it did it was after eight at night. He knew there was a caretaker at the house and he would be able to sleep there for a few nights while he checked the place out. He was not ready for what he found in the far-away village.

When he alighted from the bus, cramped and tired, he looked around the village and felt pity for youths living there. There was little in features. The only thing he noticed was electrical lines. Telephones had not yet arrived. He began to make enquiries.
The people were almost hostile to him. Everyone he approached refuse to say a word to him. When they eventually spoke they warned him to leave the village and leave the house. Angry at their ridiculous attitude he forged ahead. He was eventually shown to the largest house in the community. There was only one problem it was old, very old. But that did not faze the lad.

He walked up the imposing driveway, up the concrete steps and knocked at the large ancient door. The sound seemed to reverberate through the house. The door swung open with a loud, annoying squeak. A very tall man had answered the door. He was close to seven feet tall with long gangling limbs and a wrinkled, ugly face.
The giant looked curiously down at the lad and Xavier hastily informed him that he was the new owner of the house. The man bowed elegantly and beckoned him to enter. The door shut with a creak and bang behind him as he entered.
“Follow me please”.

The voice was low but clear. The man walked ahead along a narrow dark passage-way. It was difficult to see much so the lad gave up trying. He would do all the looking tomorrow. The man approached a door and it was immediately obvious to Xavier that the fellow was much too tall to enter the space. That was when things swiftly became bizarre. With casual grace, the tall figure removed his head, opened the door and entered.
“Follow me Sir. Sir!…… Sir?”

By now he was speaking to an empty hallway. The curious villager did not even see the lad leave. All they experienced was a sudden burst of fierce wind that whipped up in their quiet little village. That strange dust plume was seen heading for the city at cheetah pace.
Harold’s astonished parents could not understand the lad’s sudden hatred for the property left by his aunt. And he never told them.