So it’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything for this site. Part of that is because NanoWrimo ended and the other part is that I realized that I’ve been writing the entire story in the wrong time period, so I have to start all over. I haven’t had the determination to start over yet, so thats where I am. But anyway, soon I will be having a birthday party and we’ll be posting pictures available for download for those who attended. Thanks so much!

Prologue

Rain misted and clouded her already blurred eyesight from her tears, coming at an unceasing speed. She huddled under her cloak and the extra blanket she had brought to try to keep warm as she stared down at her daughter’s gravestone, clutching something in her arms. Her husband stood away at a distance under a large tree for cover from the rain, not caring enough to get too close. There was a fire burning nearby in honor of the dead, struggling just enough to stay lit during the downpour. He stood as close as he could to the fire without leaving the shelter of the tree. His wife stood in the rain, not noticing how wet she was, ignoring his presence as he was ignoring hers. She was lucky he even let her come. If he had his way, they would forget this place and their daughter and never come here or speak of her again. Of course, he rarely spoke of her, even when he had her locked up in her room. His eyes wandered around at the other nameless stones, as he became more and more frustrated that he and Clara were there. He huffed with impatience and his breath drew white swirling circles in the air because of the cold. He watched the clouds rolling and threatening more and more rain and no chance of sunlight anytime soon. He assumed it may be too late for sunlight anyway as he looked back to his forlorn wife. Clara knelt down to touch the stone. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in her heartache as she came closer to the only thing left of her daughter. She clutched the item in her hands even tighter to try in vain to keep it dry. She traced the crude indentations marking her daughter’s name and the date that was recorded there with her index finger. As she went over the date again and again, her eyes turned to hatred. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. She had no say in what her husband did, lest she get beaten for opening her mouth. She tried to stop him, to change what he was doing, but it was no use. He said Mary wasn’t right and he had to fix it; He had to be rid of her. Mary didn’t do anything wrong, it wasn’t her fault; Clara had tried to tell him. She was special, she had said, that’s all. He didn’t understand. He thought Mary was sick, from the devil. At the very least, he thought she was an abomination and an embarrassment to their family. Clara didn’t care what the outside world thought; she just loved her daughter and wanted her to be safe. She finally convinced her husband not to do anything rash, but his conditions were still too much for her to live with. She stood slowly as she tried in vain to wipe the tears from her eyes and the rain from her face. She knew that if she didn’t leave soon, he would force her away if he had to drag her himself. She took one last glance at the stone and wiped her tears away from her eyes. She turned and walked towards him near the small fire. He came out from his hiding place and met her as she was almost to him. Without a word, he wrenched the thing she was holding from her clutches. She cried out with agony and fell to her knees screaming as he dropped the papers into the fire and stomped off. She crawled to the fire to try to get them out but it was no use, they were too far-gone. She screamed in heartache and pain as she saw the papers be consumed in the fire. The flames licked up the edges of the top of the paper as the last thing she saw was finally destroyed. The last discernable words on the paper were:

  Mary Brandon

Age: 16

Admission date: September the 14th, 1895

Danvers Lunatic Hospital

The date on the gravestone and the admissions date to the hospital were the same.

I have now officially written 10,079 words! But I am also 3,257 words behind schedule… Hopefully I can catch up this weekend! Here’s another excerpt! Enjoy!

No one had seen her. Coming close to hysterics now, she was in tears and her vision was blurred. A couple times as she ran in search, she tripped over baskets, shoes or small children that weren’t Mary. People yelled at her as she passed for her carelessness, but she didn’t hear them. All she could think about was where Mary had gone to. She saw a blur of blue with a hint of black in the corner of her eye run in between two shops. Clara turned and ran after. She saw Mary, running just ahead. She looked like she was chasing something but Clara couldn’t see what it was. Clara called Mary’s name again, this time Mary turned and fixed her mother with a stare that none could describe. She smiled a little and ran on her way, after the invisible thing. Clara stood rooted to the spot. She tried to make sense in her mind of the look on Mary’s face. No, it wasn’t in her face; it was only in her eyes. Those same pale blue eyes that had always seemed strange to her, but she had grown to love. Those eyes.  The look that Clara got from those eyes that instant scared her frozen.

Her daughter’s scream woke her with the sound ringing through her ears. She bolted out of bed and scurried to her daughter’s room. She raced down the long corridor towards the shrieking screams, not sure whether to be terrified for her daughter or annoyed. This has been going on for weeks, why won’t it stop? She thought. She reached the three year olds bedroom and rushed in, nearly taking out the side of the doorway with her, to the crying child’s side. “Hush hush now, sweetheart, its okay” she cooed. Holding little Mary tight in her arms, Clara decided it might be time to take actions to rid Mary of these nightmares. She’s only three years old, she shouldn’t have to suffer this much Clara thought. She determined she would take Mary to the physician as soon as it was daylight. Clara lay down with her daughter on the semi soft and very small mattress, pulling the quilt over for cover, and gently rocked her, stroking her ink black hair. Her screams had settled but her pale blue eyes remained wide open and unblinking, staring into space with the shock of what she had just seen.

She runs. A feeling of such profound evil chases after. She looks back, not knowing whether or not she wants to see what follows. Nothing but black streets and broken street lamps flooding the wagon ruts with light, casting sinister shadows. A maniacal chuckle clouds her senses as she plummets harder forward, anywhere she thinks she might get free. Her breath comes in sharp jagged rhythms, like ice crystals in a torrent, forced down her throat. She barely feels the ice cold air as it nips. Her heart is beating a steady staccato, threatening to break free of her chest at any moment. She comes to another deserted street and skids to a halt. Surveying her surroundings, she searches for the daunting predator. Fear clutches her heart. She sees nothing, and senses everything. Her eyesight becomes very clear, her breath has slowed and the world plunges into silence. She feels a dark presence at her back. Slowly, she turns. A shadow emerges, quick as silver, and all is dark as night.

This is my first website, so sorry about the kinks and it’s still majorly under construction, but soon enough there will be lots of fun stuff, so come back soon!