Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-30105631-20161015231909

This is a story idea I've been juggling for a while now (yes, I write for fanfiction), and I wanted to test it out on the forum with you guys. So while, this isn't my best work. I'll refine the story later, at some point, but for now it's just what it is now - an unedited version.

Chapter 1: Deathly Nightward

 The night was dark, rain and wind shrouding the entire town in a noisy fog. The girl who made her way through was anything if not determined, for the slickness of the pavement, emptiness of the streets, and malice of the night would be enough to deter anyone else.

 Or at least, anyone in their right mind.

 But Vanessa Sewall had never been easily swayed, by man or nature. She didn’t bow to fear, the same way her father had never bowed to fear, although in the end the reason she was raised by a single mother was because guilt had been enough to get to him, to eat into his soul like a termite eats into a chair leg.

 For a second, she thought she could see someone in the fog. Then the figure moved away, and she shook her head, mentally telling herself to forget it.

 The house she approached stood apart from the others, mainly due to the fact that the man inside was still very much awake, the lights shining from the inside, illuminating the fog.

 Vanessa approached the door, her hands reaching to her pocket, fumbling for a key. She produced a small ring, lined with keys, but realised that none of them fit the description. Sighing, and shaking her head at herself at the same time, she thumped her hand on the door, hoping that the sound of the knock would persist over the loud wind.

   For a second, it seemed as if he really hadn’t realised she was there, but then he opened the door. Johnathon Hathorne was about thirty-years-old, with a small stubble and black hair, his eyes blue like steel, gazing with a sharp, piercing glare. John was tall, pale-skinned, and well-defined. He gave her a look of slight amusement and stepped out of the doorway, allowing Vanessa into the house.

   “I didn’t think you’d come.” He said casually, shutting and locking the door behind them. “It’s awfully cold out. If it was me, I would have waited until tomorrow.”

 Vanessa shook her head. “I need this info now. If I can find whoever killed my father, then I can bring them to justice. And that’s what I want to do – bring them to justice.”

 Johnathon shook his head, moving the refrigerator and reaching for a bottle of milk. He took it out of the fridge and poured it into a hot cup of coffee sitting on the bench. Vanessa hadn’t noticed it before.

   “For the last time, Vanessa, your father wasn’t murdered. He committed suicide after shooting the doctor.” Johnathon gave her an apprehensive look, putting his milk back in the fridge.

   “But he was obsessed with finding the Venera, and that’s why he died. ” Vanessa argued. “I want to follow in his footsteps. I want to avenge him.”

   Johnathon took a long sip of his coffee, seemingly accustomed to the hot taste despite the fact that it had just been made, and then set the cup down. “And you’re sure that the Venera is even real?”

   “Yes.” Said Vanessa tersely. “The Venera – the pyro, the arsonist, whatever you want to call it. It’s real. It’s not folklore, not legend, not myth. I’m sure it’s real.”

   Johnathon smiled slightly. “Okay then.” He turned up his palms. “I can tell you a secret.” He leaned forward, whispering now. “Gotta be quiet in case anyway visits us.” He said. “But there’s been sightings of two… things. Out in the woods. Creatures.”

   Vanessa felt a chill run down her body. Was this what she was looking for? “What kind of sightings?” She pressed. Johnathon looked uncomfortable.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   “A dogman .” He said. “Like, a werewolf or something. A dog that walks on its hind legs and talks with a human’s voice.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Vanessa crossed her arms. “And the other?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> “A witch. A lady with green skin.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> Vanessa felt something run through her. She realised, with a start, that it was shock, but not at what she was hearing; at the fact that the first real, good information she’d gotten in years about her father’s death had finally come. Except, in this case, it wasn’t info about the Venera. It was about the witch.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> She remembered what he had always told her. After I get the arsonist, he would tell her. ''We can track down the witch together. We can be a team, like we were always meant to be.''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> Vanessa felt her throat begin to burn.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> Johnathon finished his coffee, setting it down. “I know it sounds strange, but the intel is good. I can assure you.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> Vanessa stared out the window, into the fog and rain. “I wanted information about the Venera."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> Johnathon winced, reflexively taking a step back, nearly bumping into the counter on accident. “Look,” he said, “The Venera is a fairy tale. And even if it is real, I don’t have anything on it. You said you wanted info? Well, this is what you get.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Vanessa didn’t say anything. She just turned and walked toward the door. “The next time I arrive,” she said, “I want info on the Venera. Nothing else. I want the killer, and I’ll be damned if I get anything else.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Johnathon said nothing. Vanessa pushed her way out into the rain and fog. As she left, he sighed, and grabbed the cup, putting it into the dishwasher.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Then he slowly trudged upstairs, only pausing to turn the light off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   /Town of Salem\

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Emily Paris slept soundly in her bed. She did not stir, did not wake, did not even roll over. She was well and truly out of it.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Downstairs, the back door slid open, and a tall, lean figure entered the building, a butcher’s knife in hand. The figure slowly ascended the stairs, walking towards the room that Emily slept in, turning the knife in it’s hand.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   It pushed the door open, and saw the sleeping figure with her back turned, and the figure approached her, smiling sadistically.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   Emily did not stir, but when the knife traced a line along her throat, her eyes opened in surprise and fear.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">   And then she lapsed into another sleep, but this time, she would never wake again.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"> End of chapter 1

<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">So that's it. Not very good, I know, but like I said, I'll refine it later. <ac_metadata title="Town of Salem: the story"> </ac_metadata>