Post by LACEY DANIELLE TURPIS on Nov 25, 2010 22:56:54 GMT -6
Author's Note: alright, so i got uber bored today, and decided to make a fanfiction thing for a site im on. I couldnt come up with a title, cause i kind of suck at that sort of thing, so, it's just called Congregation of the Damned. or COTD. Anyhow... this story's in Mickaela's POV, she's my charrie for those of you who dont know (which is everyone lol), in third person of course, aaand yeah. This part is the prologue, which takes place the night she and Casey (her little sister, also my charrie) were turned. Sooooo yeah. enjoy! lol
[P.S if you wanna see the site, CLICK HERE! ]
Prologue
Set about 150 years ago, in New York, when dresses, corsets, bonnets, etc were expected for women. In other words, a suckish time.
Mickaela smiled at the driver as she climbed back into the carriage beside Casey. She had been hoping that the butcher shop was open, so that they could replace the dinner ham that had been burned on accident, but since it wasn't they would have to suffice for something else. As she rode along in the cab of the carriage, she got a sickening feeling that something was wrong at home, and that she needed to tell the driver to just keep going past her grandmother's house. But that was silly; she needed to go back and fix another dinner for the four of them, and put Casey to bed afterwords. So she ignored the feeling, and tried to think about something else to distract her. Soon, they were back at the house, and as both Monmair daughters stepped through the front doors, the sickening feeling returned. But this time, she got the feeling to pick up Casey, and run. Of course, she disregarded that feeling as well, but these feelings were beginning to scare her. The house had an eery feeling to it, and replaced with the laughter of her grandmother and mother, was dead silence. Irony stepped in, as the two entered the living room, where all was dark except for a faint glow from the fireplace, and three figures could be seen just barely in the room. Two, were on the floor, and one was standing over both figures. Suddenly, the fire kicked up, and lit the room for a few moments, but those moments were all that were needed, to unmask all three of the figures. The two on the floor were her grandmother and her mother, both lying motionless in large pools of blood, with the bones of their necks, spines and legs sticking out in every which direction, their skin so pale... like all the blood had been drained from their bodies, which, is what it appeared to be. Mickaela's eyes widened, and her hand clasped over her mouth at the scene before her as she let out a shrill scream, that was barely muffled by her now trembling hand. Another kick of fire, and their murderer was revealed. Little Casey beside her was the one to scream this time, and started weeping hysterically, as a loud growl could be heard. Marcus Monmair, the girls' father, now stood facing them with eyes like an animal's, with the blood of their mother and grandmother. In an instant, Marcus leaped with another growl, louder than the last, and went straight for Mickaela, fangs bared. Everything went black.
Set about 150 years ago, in New York, when dresses, corsets, bonnets, etc were expected for women. In other words, a suckish time.
Mickaela smiled at the driver as she climbed back into the carriage beside Casey. She had been hoping that the butcher shop was open, so that they could replace the dinner ham that had been burned on accident, but since it wasn't they would have to suffice for something else. As she rode along in the cab of the carriage, she got a sickening feeling that something was wrong at home, and that she needed to tell the driver to just keep going past her grandmother's house. But that was silly; she needed to go back and fix another dinner for the four of them, and put Casey to bed afterwords. So she ignored the feeling, and tried to think about something else to distract her. Soon, they were back at the house, and as both Monmair daughters stepped through the front doors, the sickening feeling returned. But this time, she got the feeling to pick up Casey, and run. Of course, she disregarded that feeling as well, but these feelings were beginning to scare her. The house had an eery feeling to it, and replaced with the laughter of her grandmother and mother, was dead silence. Irony stepped in, as the two entered the living room, where all was dark except for a faint glow from the fireplace, and three figures could be seen just barely in the room. Two, were on the floor, and one was standing over both figures. Suddenly, the fire kicked up, and lit the room for a few moments, but those moments were all that were needed, to unmask all three of the figures. The two on the floor were her grandmother and her mother, both lying motionless in large pools of blood, with the bones of their necks, spines and legs sticking out in every which direction, their skin so pale... like all the blood had been drained from their bodies, which, is what it appeared to be. Mickaela's eyes widened, and her hand clasped over her mouth at the scene before her as she let out a shrill scream, that was barely muffled by her now trembling hand. Another kick of fire, and their murderer was revealed. Little Casey beside her was the one to scream this time, and started weeping hysterically, as a loud growl could be heard. Marcus Monmair, the girls' father, now stood facing them with eyes like an animal's, with the blood of their mother and grandmother. In an instant, Marcus leaped with another growl, louder than the last, and went straight for Mickaela, fangs bared. Everything went black.
[P.S if you wanna see the site, CLICK HERE! ]
