Subj: Collinwood 2001 -- 1
Date: 2/8/01 3:27:54 AM Central Standard Time
From: N.E. Collins

"Welcome to Collinsport, lady. Loony capital on the tip of nowhere!" Vicky was a bit taken aback at the cab driver's demeanor and his rather insensitive remark about what could only refer to the regionally famous Wyndcliffe Institution. Wyndcliffe was a mulit-purpose healing facility located just outside the small seaside town's 'city' limits. There was housed a research staff of doctors devoted to exploration of the very cause of death as relates to illness in the human body. They were always making the news and they were often harshly criticized by the A.M.A. and the C.D.C. for making unfounded and unsubstantial scientific claims to that effect.

Wyndcliffe was run by a woman, a Doctor Julia Hoffman, Ph.D., M.D., B.S.A., and a string of other notable abbreviations. She had certificates and degrees literally lining her private office's wall like spanish tiles would a fancy floor. Under her guidance and superior leadership the institute had most recently added two new departments of study: psychiatry and occult phenomena. "Yep," continued the cabbie in that all too familiar drawl of the populace in these parts. "If ya was lookin' for a weirder place to hang your hat you'd have a tough time beatin' this one!" Vicky knew that it was really none of the man's business what she was doing here, but she decided to volunteer a part of her life story to this apparent 'doubting Thomas' nonetheless.

"Oh, I'm not going to be working at the institute, mind you. I've accepted a position to be the new governess to the young Collins family heir. Dustin? Davis?"

The driver interjected for her. "David."

Vicky was caught offguard when she realized that this man had just said the right name for who was soon to be her new charge. "Yes. That's right. David. David Collins. Do you know him?"

"Who, me? Know David Collins? Nah, at least, not personally, but here in Collinsport everyone knows ABOUT everyone else especially when it's about one of the local loonies himself!" Now Vicky REALLY didn't like the man's tone, but he continued as the cab made the turn in through the gates of the Collinwood estate. He droned on as Vicky got an eyeful of the immense and somewhat frightening gargoyles that were worked into the framework of the oversized ironclad doorways. "And I didn't mean to say that I thought you would be working at that other nut factory, no sirree, ma'am. The loony bin I was meaning is the one that is JUST about to come into view on this unusally fine day here in our little backwoods burg."

The car made another turn around a pass of talls and forbidding looking trees that seemed to lean in hungrily at the automobile as it took the curve of the road, and then there is was in all it's gothic archetectural beauty...Collinwood, one of the many ancestral homes of the well known Collins family. It was an impressive if not more than a little intimidating to the young orphan girl who had accepted what could only be called a summoning from the 'queen' who ruled this majestic roost. Mrs. Elizabeth Collins Stoddard had herself requested that the New York foundling home, where a Miss Victoria Winters was in residence and was also an instructor to the other younger children, make it known to the self same young woman that she, Mrs. Stoddard wanter her to come and work for her family in the capacity of a private governess for her 12 year old nephew, David Collins.

When Vicky had returned a communication to the woman and inquired why she had been so specifically chosen to accept this most handsome offer she received back a most strange answer. The handwritten note had been, she assumed, in Mrs. Stoddard's own lovely handwriting and it stated only one line, but a more remarkable one it could not have been. The correspondence said, "It's time you came home, my dear." The cab driver knocked on the great double ornate door and he and Vicky stood waiting for someone to come and let her into the 'castle' on the hill. The sun was just going down and the skies were all gray and crimson and deep cyanic shades of blue, as the sound of feet walking was heard from within, behind the doors. A bolt was thrown back on the other side and one of the doors opened to reveal the housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson. Sarah Johnson was her name and she was the first person to give her the greeting that she would hear again and again in the next few weeks after her arrival: "Welcome to Collinwood, Miss Winters. We've been expecting you."

Dark Shadows is a Dan Curtis Production.