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[LalaRu]

I guess it's important that I put down that this is the property of Melony R Foster, and all that other good copyright stuff.

I'm in the process of re-writing a fair chunk of my book. This overhaul required me to write a whole new prologue and first chapter. So, as discussed in chat, here is my attempt at staying on target. The first 6 pages of The House on Crowell Street. (Critiques encouraged! If you can make it through it. >.>) It's a teen horror/fantasy, but I would not class it in the same ilk as *shudder* Twilight or any of its counterparts. It was supposed to be a kids book originally, but it was too dark. I'm sure you'll see. heh


Prologue

Genevieve cursed her luck. When originally her husband had decided to move across the ocean to the New World, she welcomed the chance to start over again. In England, she never felt safe. Hundreds of men and women, gifted as they were, had been burned, drowned, or worse. Out of fear, or loathing, or both. That was the way it had always worked. But lately, it had seemed more good people were dying, and the bad still lived freely.

A new lease on life. That?s what the New World held.

When they arrived, she could immediately feel the presence of other influences in the area. She was loath to remain, but Franklin, he announced it was the reason for the move. As one of the most gifted, he had often been given tasks that were of great importance.

This time, it was simple. Stay in the area, and make sure nothing ill befell the new township. And for years, it seemed to be fine.

But as always, circumstances changed. Thomas Crowell had been a cruel man to people, and his wife, lovely as ever, was with child. As tensions grew, tales of a disturbing nature reached the Welch household. Franklin and Genevieve waited patiently for help. However, the months following the birth of the Crowell child, it became clear they could no longer wait.

When Franklin came home in a panic, Genevieve knew what she had to do. Though she was uncertain of the outcome or the wisdom in bringing her oldest daughter, she was now walking in a dense forest. Light had long since descended from the horizon, and she could hardly see the moon and stars from between the branches and leaves. Passion spurred her on. Passion and desperation.

Hours passed before they reached the estate. Silently, Genevieve motioned her daughter towards the rear of the accursed house. As she watched the young girl disappear around the corner, she prayed she would see her again. She blanketed herself with a shield. It was hard enough just doing that.

Unimaginable evil was surrounding the house. The air was thick with it. A single light flickered from the furthest room in the house. She kept a close eye on it, hoping to not see it move. Her daughter was risking her own life to save another.

Her chant started directly after. Slowly at first, as was the custom. For a spell of this sort, it had to work just right. She had to ease it on slowly. Her eyes were the only to see it, but the house was starting to glow. The most immense shade of red crept up the outside of the house that flowed on towards the sides and finally the back. Her daughter had escaped. She sensed her silent message, and so she completed the chant. It was then that the dark figure appeared in the window of the furthest room.

As her chant finished, she felt life forced out of her.

Falling to the ground, Genevieve knew something bad had happened. And then she knew. The most uncommon sense of dread engulfed her whole being.

By the time she had her wits about her, her daughter came panting over. The baby was resting in her arms. Gathering her shawl over her shoulders, she told her daughter they had to make haste.

Then, they ran. As fast as they could. This time it was desperation urging her on. They hadn?t gotten far when she tripped over a large object. At first she thought it may have been an immense tree branch. But as her daughter got closer to try and help her up, Sarah screamed.

Genevieve picked herself up, and finally saw what it was that had hindered her task.

Thomas Crowell. His remains. What was left of them, at least, lay on the ground. They had not gone far enough to be out of earshot of the house. So now, she could hear it, a cackle. No. A form of hysteria. It rose, until she was certain that the curse had been broken.

Not even bothering to wipe the dirt off herself, Genevieve ran back to be within eyeshot of the house. The whole house was aglow, candle flames dancing around. The red glow was still there; the curse was still intact. Yet in it, that same silhouette was in the furthest window.

And at last, she knew. All along it had not been Thomas that was the problem. He was a cruel man, sure, but the oddities in the town and outlying areas had all been caused by his loving wife. Nadia had been behind it all along.

She heard words being said from inside the house, but Genevieve ignored it all. She turned her back on the house, knowing full well that it would not be the last she would hear of it. Somehow, the baby did not wake after all this. Instead, she seemed happy to lie in Sarah?s arms.

And thus began their flight. Genevieve needed to get home. She knew what was going to happen next, and she had to be there before it did. It was well past the darkest hour now. Her fear was day would break before she could return.

Sarah kept trying to make suggestions, but every one of them required the help of Franklin. Franklin was at home worrying about them. He would have stayed away knowing how the curses she had performed were too dangerous for his skill to witness.

She questioned her daughter. She, too, had felt it. In fact, Sarah had seen something as well, a glimpse of what was to come. Genevieve used it as fuel to keep running. When her muscles were at their breaking point, she willed them stronger again. When her throat was parched, she felt water nearby.

The night sky was slowly lightening, and this brought on more fear. She was close, but in her mind, not close enough. She wasn?t going to get to do what she had hoped. It was going to be interrupted.

Sarah seemed feverish by this point. Running for hours would do that to a young girl. Genevieve agreed to let her stop. She took the baby, and told her she?d send her brothers out to get her.

Sarah fought the notion mentally, crying in frustration. But there was only so much that the art would let you do before your own body gave up. The moment her head rested against the tree, she was asleep.

Genevieve knew Sarah had given her all, but now she could not wait any longer. The baby was stirring, and the sun was going to touch the horizon soon. If she intended to get home in time, she had to leave now. And leave she did. The last ounce of her skill used to spur her on one final hundred meters.


Genevieve burst open the door. Panting, intensely, she cried out for Franklin. It had been hardly warranted, since the house was one room to begin with. He was in her face before she even finished, the ?-lin.? He put his hands on her shoulders, as one of the boys grabbed the small child from her arms.

She hugged her husband. Tears were flowing out of her eyes.

?It was Nadia all along. But that doesn?t matter now,? she said as her head rested on his shoulders.

?She?s cursed the family,? she said with a gasp.

Franklin acknowledged he had felt the pain as well. The whole house did. They had all feared she had failed, and they were going to die. She started to sob, ?You still are.?

She felt the sun coming up somewhere far in the distance. There wasn?t enough time!

?When the sun starts to appear in our horizon, you will perish, my love,? she said, trying to remain somewhat calm.

?Brothers, please go find your sister. She is a hundred meters to the north in the forest. She could not will her body any further. Say good-bye to your father, as well.?

She forced herself out of her husband?s arms. Her sons did as they were told. With the aptitude she had always expected. They knew that she was trying to spare them the gruesome last moments.

As they ran, she turned towards her husband one last time. Her arms wrapped around him. They both said their goodbyes. As well as they could. His last request was to send word again that the estate needed to be dealt with in a timely manner. As he said his final ?I love you,? he coughed. At first, it was only a little blood. But then, it kept going. She held onto him the whole time. As he fell to the floor, she followed him.

She could feel the sun on her back. It was drying the bloody remains of her husband. And then Genevieve knew. He was gone from this world. She grabbed another set of clothes, and went to the task of masking the gory remains before the children came back.

And there she was. The small babe. The reason for this death, and possibly many more to come. Her family would slowly die off. She could only pray that help would come sooner rather than later. And that it could help end the inevitable wiping out of the family Welch, but destroy ultimately the name Crowell?

Her prayers went unanswered.

[JRRD]

You are off to a great start! What time period would you say this is in?

[LalaRu]

The prologue was in the late 1700s, but the rest of it is in what I call "present day" but won't really have any elements of a main time period. I'd say the 2000s, but that's not necessarily discussed anywhere.