Well, Here's the prologue ^_^ Hope you all enjoy it
The sky showed a dark, deep black, having only few stars to shine through. The moon, almost to a new rotation, was only a slither in view. All seemed well in the neighborhood, all the children were sleeping, as were their parents.
Except one family.
This house—a suburban style home like the others—was a nice pure white on the outside, with small square windows on the bottom floor, but big inviting ones on the next. The roof was a stone blue color and texture. Unlike the white siding, the door was a vibrant red color—quite the contrary to the blue ones that ran up and down the street.
You would have only known that there were people awake if you listened closely, for they were trying to keep their voices down.
"Did you see what your daughter did earlier?" It was obviously a man's voice who gave that gruff, yet silent, question to the woman before him.
The woman wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an oversized grey T sighed. Her husband had been yelling about their second born for the last hour. She ran a French-manicured hand through her mid-back length chestnut brown hair, and gazed her unnatural-looking Topaz eyes at her husband, "Simon, hush, or you'll wake the girls. Yes, she's somewhat different. I've noticed."
Simon still continued to talk in the same tone of voice despite his wife's protest, "Well—what are you going to do about it? The powers are from your side of the family!" He practically screamed his reply before taking a seat on the dark tan leather couch. His hazel eyes were cast down, letting his slightly shaggy dirty blonde hair fall into his face as it looked sternly at the carpet. His hands sat in between his legs, elbows on the black silk pajama pants, in a holding position. Despite his intense thinking, Simon shivered a bit from the breeze the nearby window gave—for he wasn't wearing a shirt to bed that evening.
Simon's wife sat next to him, and grabbed a hold of his own shoulder, leaning against him, "Simon, if you made it through my mother's powers, you can handle our daughter. I'll talk to her in the morning so that she may learn to control the power."
"I hope you're right, Delilah," Simon spoke as he turned his head to hers, "C'mon, let's go to bed for the night." He kissed her lightly on the lips before standing up, and pulling her into a hug.
Delilah giggled like she did when she was younger, holding her husband's hand as they began to the trek to their bedroom—on the first floor, unlike their daughters' rooms.
Simon had the door already opened when they heard a scream. Delilah gasped quickly as she looked to Simon, who'd also done the same. They quickly let go of each other's hands, running up the stairs to the bedrooms.
'Why did we have to buy such big staircases?' Simon roared in his mind. He made it up the stairs before his wife, and pushed open Isabel's room's door. What he saw nearly gave him a heart attack.
Isabel's father stood in shell shock as her mother finally made it up the stairs to the same horrid sight.
Before the two stood their younger daughter, she looked as though she were sleep walking and having no control over her body. Isabel lay hovering above her bed, entangled in a black mystical power that seemed to me sucking the life right out of her. The only part of Isabel's body that wasn't covered in black tendrils was her face, the part she was currently crying from and gasping for air. The problem wasn't that no air was coming in from the outside, but that her lungs were being squeezed more and more by her younger sister.
Delilah ran towards the younger girl and tackled her to the floor. It was obvious this had 'awakened' her, because her eyes stopped glowing white and Isabel fell to the bed—not coughing, crying, or screaming anymore. The one with powers turned her topaz eyes—much like her mother's—to look at her older sister. The sight astonished her.
Isabel's clothes and body had red pressure marks, obviously going to turn her skin into bruises, as well as blood trickling out of her mouth. Just the sight made the dark brunette turn her head around to look at her mother, silently seeing the anger and sadness in her eyes. She just stayed where she was on the floor crying as Simon began to walk towards Isabel.
Simon came out of shock once Isabel was once more lying on her bed. He practically sprinted up to her, and took hold of her palm—faced upward. They were all quiet, knowing a pulse was being taken. Moments later Simon looked up, "You killed her," it was spoken so low almost inaudible.
The couple's last living child froze. "You killed her." This time he spoke it louder, with more force. Delilah just stayed where she was, tears already falling from her face mourning the loss of her baby girl.
"YOU KILLED HER!" Her father screamed once more, proceeding to then walked forward. Simon grabbed hold of his youngest, pulling her up to stand after gripping her shoulder. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!"
Marylin, the daughter with powers, begin to let tears flow much like her mother. Tears ran from her topaz eyes, down her pale flushed heart-shaped face, leaving streak marks in their place.
Simon continued to yell, it was certain that neighbor's could hear them clearly. As he continued his verbal assault, Delilah stood up beside her husband. Her beloved stopped his yelling when she leaned against him. Dark hazel eyes softened, and held the woman close, rubbing her back in small circular motions whispering, "Its okay…it's not your fault…"
Once Delilah stopped her crying, she looked at Marylin whose tears were also just stopped—leaving red puffy eyes in their wake. "Marylin," Delilah practically whispered, "what happened up here?"
Said teen just shook her head, not knowing herself. Simon sighed angrily and scowled as his wife just gave a sad nod, and helped Marylin back to her bedroom so that she may get back to sleep.
Although his wife left, Simon stayed and looked at his lifeless Princess. Her once sparkling sapphire eyes—inherited from Simon's mother—gazed at the ceiling so lifeless that it was if she's wasn't the same. As if even in death, she'd changed.
Before he could do anything, Delilah returned. "Did she say anything?" Simon asked angrily. His wife shook her head, leaving him to let out tears—something he rarely did.
Simon was angry; no, more than angry. He punched his fist into the carpeted grey floor as angry tears continued to fall onto the ground, his head downcast as he kneeled before the bed. Delilah knew when her husband was troubled; anyone could have known that from the way he was acting, so she kneeled next to him holding onto her baby's lifeless hand crying softly next to her husband as he silently muttered, "What are you doing, Marylin? What are you doing to our lives..."
Except one family.
This house—a suburban style home like the others—was a nice pure white on the outside, with small square windows on the bottom floor, but big inviting ones on the next. The roof was a stone blue color and texture. Unlike the white siding, the door was a vibrant red color—quite the contrary to the blue ones that ran up and down the street.
You would have only known that there were people awake if you listened closely, for they were trying to keep their voices down.
"Did you see what your daughter did earlier?" It was obviously a man's voice who gave that gruff, yet silent, question to the woman before him.
The woman wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an oversized grey T sighed. Her husband had been yelling about their second born for the last hour. She ran a French-manicured hand through her mid-back length chestnut brown hair, and gazed her unnatural-looking Topaz eyes at her husband, "Simon, hush, or you'll wake the girls. Yes, she's somewhat different. I've noticed."
Simon still continued to talk in the same tone of voice despite his wife's protest, "Well—what are you going to do about it? The powers are from your side of the family!" He practically screamed his reply before taking a seat on the dark tan leather couch. His hazel eyes were cast down, letting his slightly shaggy dirty blonde hair fall into his face as it looked sternly at the carpet. His hands sat in between his legs, elbows on the black silk pajama pants, in a holding position. Despite his intense thinking, Simon shivered a bit from the breeze the nearby window gave—for he wasn't wearing a shirt to bed that evening.
Simon's wife sat next to him, and grabbed a hold of his own shoulder, leaning against him, "Simon, if you made it through my mother's powers, you can handle our daughter. I'll talk to her in the morning so that she may learn to control the power."
"I hope you're right, Delilah," Simon spoke as he turned his head to hers, "C'mon, let's go to bed for the night." He kissed her lightly on the lips before standing up, and pulling her into a hug.
Delilah giggled like she did when she was younger, holding her husband's hand as they began to the trek to their bedroom—on the first floor, unlike their daughters' rooms.
Simon had the door already opened when they heard a scream. Delilah gasped quickly as she looked to Simon, who'd also done the same. They quickly let go of each other's hands, running up the stairs to the bedrooms.
'Why did we have to buy such big staircases?' Simon roared in his mind. He made it up the stairs before his wife, and pushed open Isabel's room's door. What he saw nearly gave him a heart attack.
Isabel's father stood in shell shock as her mother finally made it up the stairs to the same horrid sight.
Before the two stood their younger daughter, she looked as though she were sleep walking and having no control over her body. Isabel lay hovering above her bed, entangled in a black mystical power that seemed to me sucking the life right out of her. The only part of Isabel's body that wasn't covered in black tendrils was her face, the part she was currently crying from and gasping for air. The problem wasn't that no air was coming in from the outside, but that her lungs were being squeezed more and more by her younger sister.
Delilah ran towards the younger girl and tackled her to the floor. It was obvious this had 'awakened' her, because her eyes stopped glowing white and Isabel fell to the bed—not coughing, crying, or screaming anymore. The one with powers turned her topaz eyes—much like her mother's—to look at her older sister. The sight astonished her.
Isabel's clothes and body had red pressure marks, obviously going to turn her skin into bruises, as well as blood trickling out of her mouth. Just the sight made the dark brunette turn her head around to look at her mother, silently seeing the anger and sadness in her eyes. She just stayed where she was on the floor crying as Simon began to walk towards Isabel.
Simon came out of shock once Isabel was once more lying on her bed. He practically sprinted up to her, and took hold of her palm—faced upward. They were all quiet, knowing a pulse was being taken. Moments later Simon looked up, "You killed her," it was spoken so low almost inaudible.
The couple's last living child froze. "You killed her." This time he spoke it louder, with more force. Delilah just stayed where she was, tears already falling from her face mourning the loss of her baby girl.
"YOU KILLED HER!" Her father screamed once more, proceeding to then walked forward. Simon grabbed hold of his youngest, pulling her up to stand after gripping her shoulder. "WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!"
Marylin, the daughter with powers, begin to let tears flow much like her mother. Tears ran from her topaz eyes, down her pale flushed heart-shaped face, leaving streak marks in their place.
Simon continued to yell, it was certain that neighbor's could hear them clearly. As he continued his verbal assault, Delilah stood up beside her husband. Her beloved stopped his yelling when she leaned against him. Dark hazel eyes softened, and held the woman close, rubbing her back in small circular motions whispering, "Its okay…it's not your fault…"
Once Delilah stopped her crying, she looked at Marylin whose tears were also just stopped—leaving red puffy eyes in their wake. "Marylin," Delilah practically whispered, "what happened up here?"
Said teen just shook her head, not knowing herself. Simon sighed angrily and scowled as his wife just gave a sad nod, and helped Marylin back to her bedroom so that she may get back to sleep.
Although his wife left, Simon stayed and looked at his lifeless Princess. Her once sparkling sapphire eyes—inherited from Simon's mother—gazed at the ceiling so lifeless that it was if she's wasn't the same. As if even in death, she'd changed.
Before he could do anything, Delilah returned. "Did she say anything?" Simon asked angrily. His wife shook her head, leaving him to let out tears—something he rarely did.
Simon was angry; no, more than angry. He punched his fist into the carpeted grey floor as angry tears continued to fall onto the ground, his head downcast as he kneeled before the bed. Delilah knew when her husband was troubled; anyone could have known that from the way he was acting, so she kneeled next to him holding onto her baby's lifeless hand crying softly next to her husband as he silently muttered, "What are you doing, Marylin? What are you doing to our lives..."
