Goldberg had been a town since the puritan era, generations after generations of families, steeped in tradition, steeped in lore, steeped in death.

Mala Hockbro was the first citizen of the town to break free, to move away from Goldberg. She wanted to get away from the town, she wanted to get away from the people, she wanted to escape.

She left in the middle of the night, not anyone know where she was going. She took the car she had worked so hard to buy, threw in the only suitcase she dared take and sped away from her parent's house, sped away from the town.

She didn't stop until she was as far away as she could go, once she got there, she started a knew life and put her old one behind her.

Or so she thought.

The first sign that something was wrong was the envelope she found in her mailbox, no stamp, no return address. She took it out and stared at it for a moment, a fission of fear going down her spine.

Slowly she opened it, and pulled out one sheet of paper. Gasping in fear when she saw what was written on it.

"No one leaves," was written on it, in what looked like blood.

She ripped the paper up and dropped it on the trash, determined to ignore it.

The next sign was more ominous and harder to ignore.

She came home from work, and found a pig's head sitting on her doorstep, its blood soaked into her doormat, draining down the sidewalk.

She stopped and stared in horror, then looked up and saw the words written on her door, in the pig's blood.

"No one leaves."

She turned quickly, falling over her feet in her hurry to get away from the gruesome sight.

Quickly she picked herself up and ran to her car, getting in and backing out of her driveway, speeding down the street, away from her house.

She drove quickly, out of town, not stopping until she was almost out of gas. Finally she found a small motel and got a room, locking and dead bolting the door before laying on the bed.

Despite her fear, she finally fell asleep, then jerked awake after only a few hours.

She lay there for a moment, unsure what had woken her up, then she realized, there was someone in the room with her.

She sat up in horror, determined to scream, when a hooded figure grabbed her, thrusting a foul smelling cloth over her mouth.

Just before the blackness descended, as she tried to fight it, she knew, they had been right.

No one leaves.

When she woke up, her head throbbed and her mouth felt like she had been sucking on cotton.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked around, realizing she was tied to a post.

She knew where she was, she had seen this place many times.

Punishment Hill.

She saw the hooded figures of the elders approaching, the townspeople behind them.

Slowly they approached her, and circled the post, each lowering their hoods, one by one.

Each person, she recognized.

Harriet Towns, then librarian. Franklin Goddard, the mayor.

Then she saw two new elders, and shook her head.

"No," she whispered, "not you, not you."

Her mother and father stared at her, an odd hatred in their eyes, and she felt cold, knowing they were no longer the parents she had known, but strangers.

Slowly they bent down, each picking up a rock.

"No one leaves," they said, in a low, monotonous chant. "No one leaves."

Mala screamed, in pain and fear as her mother threw the first rock, hitting her in the head.

One by one the elders threw rocks, hitting her, hurting her, as blood drained down the post and soaked into the ground.

"No one leaves," the townspeople chanted, as they each picked up a rock, "no one leaves."

One by one, the townspeople threw rocks at Mala, hitting her, knocking her unconscious, making her bleed, until finally she sagged against the ropes, dead.

Two of the men, stepped forward and cut her body down, throwing her into the hole they had dug.

Dirt was piled over her body, and a stone was erected on her grave.

A stone that only had two words, ones to remind the townspeople why they stayed in Goldberg.

"No One Leaves."