Hey people! :D

Here's chapter one!

Hope you enjoy!

(Did you notice that my fist three sentences all start with the letter "H") LOL

R&R! COPYRIGHTS ARE APPLIED!

Chapter 1

She was coming. Hair like tar, covering her scarred and bloody face, hands with freakishly long, jagged, and blackened nails, spitting in what seemed like blood; blood from her victims, my family. A gasp was heard, then a scream, then a teeth chattering thud.

My whole world was focused on the cold, dead body at my feet.

"Run," The soon-to-be-corpse mouthed, his eyeballs like tiny little slits. I ran; Ran into the kitchen, up to the stairs, and into my bedroom closet, all the while trying not to sob out loud, thinking: I'm dead, I'm dead!

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi...

The silence was almost worst than the screams. It felt like it was pressing on me, almost like a sticky, slimy coat suffocation me. Wait. Was that footsteps I heard…?

Thud, thud, thud…

I held my breath, tears gathering up in the corners of my eyes, blood trickling at the side of my mouth.

Thud, thud, thud…

I sobbed. I couldn't help it. Everything that I've seen tonight was just too much. The bodies sliced in half, the screams that echoed in my hollow ears, and the blood. Oh God, the blood, spilling in the carpet, the tables, coating the rooms with red.

I wish I'd die. It's better than being tormented by those gruesome images, and once the doors of this closet creaks open, I'd get my wish.

Thud, thud, thud…

Silence.

Was she gone? Newfound energy suddenly vibrated through my body. If she was gone, I could get out the closet, jump out of the window, and into the bushes below. I might survive. I might-

CREAK…!

The screen went black.

"Wha-" A girl with pitch-black hair gasped.

"That's enough, Melinda." A man with sandy blond hair laughed, "You've got school in 5 minutes, remember?"

"Aw, c'mon dad!" Melinda Clad pouted, trying to snatch the remote out of her father's clutches, "It was getting to the good part!"

Frederick Clad shook his head, "I don't understand how you can enjoy these gruesome movies, Melinda. It's not good for a sixteen year old to watch this!" He said, gesturing to the contraption in front of us.

"They give me inspiration." The dark haired girl said, her intense emerald green eyes glinting with imagination.

"Inspiration?" He asked, bewildered.

Melinda looked away. How could she tell her father that she could write a whole novel, word for word, in her mind just by watching a movie, like she just did? He would think she was crazy.

He would also probably be outraged when he finds out. He detests authors, thinking that they're delusional, and unrealistic. Over the years, there was always this strange feeling in Melinda's gut, that that wasn't the real reason he hated them, but she couldn't find any other reason, so she would always leave it be.

Thank goodness, before he could ask anymore, Melinda's cellphone rang, signaling to start walking to school, or else she'll be late.

The green-eyed girl stood up, kissed her father in the cheek, and said, "See you later, dad."

"Be good at school, sweetie." He shouted after the dark strands that were flying out the door.

Just when he stood up to get ready for work, a CD case fell down the table. It was the movie that Melinda was watching.

"Blood." Frederick read, staring at the word, which was written with crossed red lines in the middle of the CD case. He rolled his emerald green eyes that almost exactly like his daughter's except less intense.

With the CD in his hands, he glided his way up the wooden stairs, and into Melinda's sleek and modern room.

He glanced around the room. Black and white bed, with wooden stands, at the left side of the bed was Melinda's very own mini-living room, with a sofa, and a love seat that was the color of dark chocolate, a oak coffee table, and a 24-inch flat screen TV.

Paintings, sketches, and photos went all around the white four-wall bedroom in a straight line, with lime green carpet covering the entire floor.

On the right side of her bed, was her double closet, and her study table, and chair, which was both made out of Spruce. Her silver colored laptop sat in the middle. At both sides of her laptop, there were stacks of paper, organized of course.

Even if Frederick didn't know why his daughter has an interest in gruesome movies, he still knew for a fact that his daughter is 100% organized.

The other thing that he knew for a fact that Melinda is also an artist. He still remembered the day he first walked in Melinda's room. He was so shocked of how it all went together that he couldn't believe it.

Plus the fact that everything in the room (minus the sofas, TV, carpet, closet, and laptop) is custom designed by his very own daughter. Even the woodwork was done by her. Frederick couldn't be more proud.

Frederick shook himself awake.

I can praise my daughter as much as I want later. Now, I need to prepare for work. He thought, running his hands through his blond hair.

He strode to Melinda's study table, and put the CD on top of her laptop, making sure that he didn't mess up his daughter's handiwork.

Just before he turned around, something caught his attention. The third drawer of Melinda's study table was slightly opened. So slightly that he didn't even notice until now. Not knowing why, but merely following his instinct, he opened it, and saw words, words, and more words.

Probably piles of homework, he thought, chiding himself for suspecting something. Probably all perfect scores too.

That made him grin.

I'm only checking how she's doing at school. He thought as he lifted the pile of papers out of the drawer, and up to his face.

"I stared at him, scared, and not knowing what to do…" he read out loud.

As each second passed by, Frederick became more and more desperate, almost becoming hysterical.

Why haven't I noticed? He thought, clutching the papers as if he wanted to rip them apart (which he does).

Just when he was about to calm himself down, his phone rang.

"Hello…" He said groggily.

"You're late." A taunt vice said. It was Wesley Feayn.

"Uh, I'm sorry sir, but I have a home emergency, so I won't be going to work today." Frederick murmured, blinking hard.

"What kind of 'emergency' are we talking about here, Fred? And be careful of your answer, because you know for a fact that the wrong answer would get you fired." Wesley spat.

Frederick took a deep breath. After his horrifying discovery, he wasn't quite sure that his emotions are stable enough for him not to scream at his boss. So, he said one word: "Daughter."

"Oh." Wesley said, his voice ever so slightly softening, "Well, that seems like a reasonable enough answer. See you tomorrow."

"I'm not sue I can go tomo-" He started saying, only to be cut of by the beep, beep, beep, of the phone, indicating that he was merely talking to himself. He sighed. His boss was always rough.

But, tonight would be rougher. He thought, glancing at the slightly crumpled papers.

Again he took a deep breath, and started to think of what to say to his daughter when they talk.

So… Good? Great? Lame? Worst ever?

Hope you enjoyed :3

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Sylvette-Cross out!