In a dark, dark forest, waits a little girl
Jennifer's horror rose as she stared at the body before her, eyes dug out, blood seeping from skull and nose and ears. Arms missing. Her mother.
Little sniffles rose from the eleven year old girl, and she opened her mouth, a silent scream escaping.
Her father stood in the doorway, knife in hand, licking blood from his fingers, insanity in eyes. Hate. Murder. Harmful thoughts, they were all in there. In those eyes of his.
She looked at him, shivering madly, shaking like a wet cat.
"You look surprised, little gem" he murmured, smirking with satisfaction. "Maybe now your mother won't take you away".
She stared, not sure if this was a nightmare or not, unsure if she should run or jump into the safe arms before her. But wait, wasn't he the one that killed her mom? Hadn't he? He had, had he not?
Rage grew in her, as she sorted through her thoughts and fears. He had killed her mom without soul, without regret, nor an aura. He had murdered her. He had stripped her of her dam.
"Come here little one" his voice is smooth and he grins at her. Jennifer looked off into the distance, eyes closed tight. As the rage grows, her hands glow with a dark light. He had killed her mother! And he would pay!
"Come here!" His eyes flash, he looks her straight in the eye, bringing a shiver down her spine. This was not her father! This murderer was not her father!
"No!" She screamed, running past him, brushing his bare arm as she runs past. The skin where she had touched him turns into a black color, black veins spreading slowly. He screams in agony and hits the ground, foaming and spasming.
Darkness races through the deep forests, it's dark eyes glowing like shiny coals in light. Astrius, do you always take so long~
The creature growls and runs faster, intent in its eyes like an eagle after the offspring of a bird, or fish. But his intentions ran more towards bigger prey. Werewolves. And he hungered to taste their blood again. After such a long time, he was hungry to kill.
She ran hard and long through the day, tears leaving a damp trail behind her that would soon soak into the ground and disappear, a cloud on a sunny day. No one was there for her now, no one to tuck her in at night, no one to sing her songs, no one, no one to teach her how to live like a normal young woman. Her mother was dead. And her father had killed her.
(I am still writing his chapter, but I would love your remarks on it so far!)
