The lights came on again for the umpteenth time, spilling
out from the room into the thick darkness outside. It had begun to rain.
Rivulets of rain-water trickled on the surface of the frosted glass as the
rain's rhythmic drumming on the rooftop of the bungalow and occasional roar of
thunder made Anjola shiver in fear.
Anjola, seven, with brown eyes, had her hair in a ponytail
as she twirled it round her finger on her way to the living...