Most horror stories begin very innocently. A good-looking family moves into a charming farmhouse in a bucolic town. The kids excitedly run through the house, each claiming a bedroom. The move itself plays itself out in pure fantasy, as neatly labelled boxes are placed in the appropriate rooms and each member of the clan smiling in their clean, crisply-pressed button-down shirts, casually cuffed at the sleeve. Neighbors, armed with sweet delights and casseroles welcome them to the neighborhood. But, we all know what’s hiding in the dark attic.