ASHTONMorning is signaled by that disturbingly bright sun. It seems to come in at the best angle putting a spotlight just on me, on my face. I long for Mysteria more every day. I was lucky if I saw the sun once a week over there. Sometimes by choice, others forcibly. Hiding under the blanket, which is my only escape, trying to fall back to sleep, I hear the smallest of creaks from the floorboards. Preparation is key, but disappointment is imminent. Even with a firm fistful of the blanket, it is still ripped right out of my grasp. An angry shriek creeps up my throat, but it comes out as a pathetic yelp.It’s several moments of complete blindness before I can see his still unamused, slightly pissed expression. Is it from either my unexpected dead visitor last night or because he’s sick and tired of having to keep waking me up.The fact that he keeps on creeping in here to wake me up causes a deep rooted torment within me, so I’m not sure why he isn’t pleased. If I could give him that
ASHTONI bolt from the room. Carden’s giving me permission and unlike other times, I hang on his words. You don’t need to tell me twice.I barge through the door of the mausoleum to come to an abrupt stop. My feet kick up loose stones as I skid to a halt. Three humans...I think they’re humans, stalk up the stairs.I backtrack and re-enter the building with small shuffling backward steps. “We have a problem.” I whisper as I bump against the tomb once again. I crawl up on top of it just as the three strangers come inside. The crypt seems to get ten times smaller from so many bodies in it.“I think this is the most visitors the old man ever got.” One of them hisses, a girl in all black. From head to toe. From her hair to her fishnets. Black. I get it. Point proven. You’re gothic and like the company of demons.“This one’s cuter than the last.” A boy in dark skinny jeans and a band tee says, leering at me. Band t-shirt. Really? It’s like the universe is mocking me. “Can I keep this one fo
ASHTONThe peeling pepto bismol pink paint that reveals a hideous wallpaper underneath and the disheveled furniture can’t mask the desperation within the crumbling walls of Mysteria Manor. Even the high vaulted ceilings of the Victorian mansion can’t close its eyes to the death that lurks inside. In fact, it showcases our torment. Today it's a small, dainty body that sways from one of its supporting beams.This place should be swarming with cops, hell a priest to put shame on us, but why should the town of Fallen Oaks care about an operating safe house full of neglected and forgotten teenage girls when those who should’ve loved us unconditionally don’t.Curiosity urges my feet to shuffle forward along with the others, gathering, gawking at the scene either in pity or intrigue. Virgil, the grounds keeper, crawls along the framework to reach the dead girl. He isn’t the spryest of the bunch that’s for sure. His old wrinkled body seems more fragile than fit as he wipes his brow already sw
CARDENThese streets are plagued with demons. The several sets of eyes that follow our car down the road could be demons, could be human consorts. All the same. This town is going to Hell. Do I care? No, but I should. The only reason we’re here is because of her.The nightmare girl. The sooner we find her the better we’ll all be. Maybe. The final decision on what to do with her has already been made, but it's bound to be problematic. The house we stop in front of is in shambles and I immediately know she’s not here. I suppress my agitation with a heavy breath. The front steps are crumbling and the shrubbery is overgrown. The windows are blocked out with ugly printed sheets. The general feeling that comes off the house is all around dreadful. Life sucking almost. Maybe she is here after all.Oliver, the only other person I trust, leads the way to the front door. He’s always been more impromptu, rushing into things without thinking while I remain on guard, analyzing everything. The tw
ASHTONThe storm howls through the evening and gets stronger the later it gets. Scraping branches against the window, pelting rain ticks against the glass. I’m surprised that Winston isn’t stepping in. The last time Sadie got worked up she flooded the town in a freak hurricane like storm. We’re in the midwest...there are no hurricanes here.The hushed lull would soothe me to sleep, but the familiar sound of a clicking lock wakes me right up. My vision decides to take several seconds to adjust to the pitch black room. Several seconds for me to rely on only my ears. I can’t quite see the door opening, but the room fills with an audible creak. Images of ghosts flash through my mind. Addison’s nightmare quickly becomes reality.My name is said in a hushed whisper, “Ashton?” The floorboards give a creak as the unnamed intruder steps forward. “Ashton? Are you sleeping?”As my fear dies down when the voice becomes familiar. “Addison?”A chilly breeze passes by me and seconds later my curtain
ASHTONI stand in the doorway of the backdoor. I watch the trees bend and sway in the wind that whips at their branches. I listen to the rain pelt the ground so hard that little holes are drilled into the soil by the fierce drops. “I wish I had an umbrella.” I groan to myself as I step out into the open.By the time I reach the path that’s in the treeline leading to the cemetary I’m soaking wet. Cracks of lightning force me to a halt, rumbles of thunder drown out the deafening drumming of my panicking pulse.It takes longer than it should to get there. I want to believe that it’s the weather, the creaking trees, falling branches, severed by lightning, but truthfully...it’s my own legs. They keep locking up as if trying to stop me from continuing. Is it weird that my knees are smarter than my brain?I almost collapse as I reach the first makeshift headstone. No turning back now. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I’m not even sure how many rows there are anymore. All I know is th
CARDENBeing summoned to Zayne’s office is a mixture of many things. Anticipation is the most prominent… or at least it was. Lately it’s been predictable and boring. I’m expecting a weekly update or news on an attack, but with only myself, Oliver and Greggory present, I know exactly what the subject is about.Why are we here again? Why is he here again? The girl, now just over nineteen slipped from our grasp, my grasp years ago. I never gave up, but no matter how long or how hard I tried to track her down, it was like trying to catch a ghost.Their disappearance hasn’t made a dent in the demon activity. Now it’s just stupid people doing evil things without having to be cohorced by a woman and her daughter.Today though, Greggory oversteps his boundaries once again. I don’t why, but it bothers me. It shouldn’t, she’s a monster, but it feels as if she's my responsibility. Maybe I’ve been reading Reedus’s journals too much. Greggory’s words echo throughout the room, cutting my thoughts
ASHTONMs. Winston hollering my number jolts me awake and I can’t help but to groan in protest.The sun is barely peeking out from behind left over storm clouds. It’s too early to be awake, let alone functional. I quickly slip into my mediocre hand-me-downs, glancing at the pile of still soggy, mud crusted clothes in the corner of the room. Ugh. Just thinking about touching them has my mood crashing to rock bottom.I’m the last one to meet Winston at the bottom of the stairs, seeing as I was wandering the woods rekilling Number 6 in the middle of the night, I’m not too quick on my feet. Not to mention I had to wash myself up before I faced the curious eyes. Addison briefly glances at me before Winston draws all of our attention with a sharp clearing of her throat.I can only imagine what she wants with the three of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Addison and I were in trouble, I’m kinda already in trouble and may have inadvertently got Addison in trouble too, but in trouble with Gina,