Welcome
There is a town that is nestled in the northern forest of Maine in America. A small town that is the shining example or Main Street America that is complete with everything. Next to the town lies a church with a graveyard found on a hill with an unmarked headstone covered with moss. This headstone is far away from the other graves and almost blends into the trees and grass around it. However, the stone starts to rumble and shake as a black fog rose from the ground followed by sparkles of green. From there step out a figure in a cloak with a glowing green grin on its face. The figure pulled out a think map and looked at it for a second. He then tapped the map and a small sprite that was made of silver smoke came forth. “Lead me to the boy’s portal.” The figure said as the sprite twirled in the air and led him on a path across the graveyard grounds.
As the figured wandered through the cemetery; storm clouds brewed over the town nearby as a boy named Henry stared out his window in a house on the other side of town. His pre-teen figure leaned lazily against the window as the droplets made clear streaks along the glass. He was in his bedtime clothes as he just listened to the sound of the thunder.
“Henry? Are you done with your homework?” He turned around to see is mother, Emma Swan, standing in the doorway. She smiled as she walked over to him and placed her arm on his shoulders. She was a strong- spirited woman as she stood proud next to her son. She wasn’t dressed for bed but she did look relaxed standing near Henry.
“Yeah I finished it earlier tonight.”
“Well what you looking outside for? It’s dark, and raining.”
“I’m not sure; I just like the sound of rain tonight I suppose.”
“Well you can listen to it as you go to sleep. Come on kid,” Emma said as she took her son to bed. She kissed him goodnight and walked out of his room and headed down the hallway to the living room of the house. The room was right next to the kitchen where she walked in just in time for a kettle on the stove to whistle steam from its spout. She made herself a cup of hot coco with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, her favorite, and walked out of the building to listen to the sound of the rain. Her son was right, the slashing and tapping of the rain drops sounded soothing to Emma. The stormed seemed to be lighting up as she stood on her house steps and sipped her drink. As she did, she caught sight of something, something moving in the trees far off and away from her. She could see the shadows shift, but can’t see what it was. But a loud ring snapped her from her trance. She fished her phone from her pocket as it buzzed and shivered in her hand. Her eyes darted up to look back to the trees, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but the sound coming from her phone.
Emma looked at it and saw that it was her alarm telling her it was time for her to go to work. It was Sunday night, and she was suckered into doing the graveyard shift. And since the Sheriff Station was understaffed, she had to pick up the shift.
“Really, I just made this,” She said turning the lights off to the thunder clashing outside.
The storm continuous to pour water all over the town. Lightening brightens the sky as thunder booms throughout the night. The rain splattered all over the town, making puddles of water appear everywhere, and raising the water levels of the shore and rivers in the town. Most of the residents have taken shelter from the storm, but not all.
Meanwhile, the figure made his way across the cemetery and passes a cabin; the door swung open and out stepped the groundskeeper. “Excuse me, who are you,” asked a hefty man with a flashlight pointing right at the cloaked person. The figure turned to the groundskeeper and thrusted a dagger right into the man’s gut. The figure then raised his hand, making his own shadow rise up from the floor, like a monster crawling out from its grave. The figure then pushed the man onto the Cabin floor as his shadow quickly wrapped itself around the man’s body and forced itself into the man’s body. The figure looked around the room and saw a wallet on the table. Taking it up, he looked to find a driver’s license inside with the name Ernest Gregor on it, with the same face as the man who lay motionless on the floor.
“You can call me “Master”,” The figured said, his glowing green grin shined brighter as Ernest laid still on the ground, and the figure’s shadow seeped out and back into his feet. A moment later, his eyes opened wide with green irises in them. The groundskeeper then knelt down before the figure as the grin glowed brighter. “Wait here until I return,” the groundskeeper stood up and nodded his head to the figure and closed the door, with a latching sound coming from behind it.
The figure then casually made his way deep in the woods of that encircled the town. He followed the sprite through the trees until he stopped at a place called Hangman’s swamp. The figure pulled out the parchment from his cloak and used it to suck the sprite right back into the paper surface. The figure then walked right to the edge of the smelly pond and held out his hand and closed his eyes. Seconds later, a bright green light shines from the bottom of the swamp, illuminating the darkness from the water before quickly fading as bubbles pop up to the surface of the water, and a hand emerges from the murky depths, followed by an arm and then a body.
The shape of a young man grasps at the wet mud and pulls itself out from the waters, gasping desperately for air. His shirtless body is covered in muck and weeds as grimy liquid poured out of wounds in his back. The man’s jeans are ripped and stained as his boots kick their way to freedom and exposure to the wet night air. The man’s eyes stare with bright blue irises into the cloudy sky as he examines his hands. He touches a platinum ring that has the initials S.C.G. made in silver and embedded into the Jet stone within the center of the ring. The man pulls himself up and looks to see the hooded figure standing in front of him and smiling a wicked grin.
“Welcome to Storybrooke,” the figure said to the boy.ting here…
