In the surrounding darkness, I see myself lost.
No light can penetrate this void of blackness, and I am left to stumble blindly. My senses are overwhelmed by the absence of even a flicker of light.
In every step, I struggle against the oppressive nothingness that surrounds me. My movements are futile against the suffocating darkness around me.
Where am I?
My mind is racing with questions, but there are no answers to be found in this desolate realm.
How did I even get here? What path led me to this god-forsaken place?
Memories are eluding me, slipping through my grasp like sand on the beach, leaving me with nothing but a sense of profound disorientation.
Desperation is now clawing it's way into my chest as I attempt to scream, to cry out into this void and shatter the silence enveloping me.
However, my voice is but a whisper. It is swallowed by the darkness, lost amidst the vast expanse of dark that stretches out before me.
In this realm of shadows, time seem to have no existence.
Minutes can stretch into hours and hours into days and I would trapped within this endless night, a prisoner of the abyss. Will I be here forever?
But then, in this black stillness, I hear a voice. It pierces the silence, sending a shiver down my spine.
Who is that?
It's not my own voice echoing back at me in the darkness, but that of a man—a whisper so faint it's as if it's spoken directly into my ear.
Startled, I turn to my left, searching for the source of this haunting whisperer. Yet, as quickly as it came, the voice drifts away.
And now it echoes from my right ear, its soft cadence sending a chill through the air that travels upon my skin, raising goosebumps.
Each whispered word washes over me like waves of upon sand and leaving in it's wake a sense of unease, creeping me out. As if, the very darkness itself is speaking to me.
My heart begins to race whilst I strain to comprehend the meaning behind the mysterious whispers. Its origin eluding me every time I try to catch it, losing itself amidst the shadows that surround me.
I need to get out of here.
I scream again, hoping to catch the sympathetic side of my whisperer and he would come to my aid.
Between this darkness, my desperate cries echo into the void, remaining unanswered and swallowed by the abyss once again.
But then, like a glimmer of hope in the night, I see a faint light appearing, drawing my gaze to it like a moth to the flame.
With my determination renewed, I pressed onwards, drawn inexorably towards the distant beacon of light. With no idea where I am stepping and what lies ahead.
Although the path ahead may be fraught with unknown perils, How can I afford to falter? It is my only hope in this world of darkness, that faint glimmer may be my only salvation.
So, with tentative steps, I approach the source of this glimmer and my heart pounding in anticipation. I draw closer, the light clears up in my vision into two orbs of golden fire, their brilliance piercing through the shadows that envelop me as if they were fighting off the shadows to bring forth illumination.
However, once close, what I thought were mere orbs reveal themselves to be something far more unsettling—eyes.
They were eyes!
Two fiery orbs fixate themselves on me from the darkness, their intensity burning into my soul with an unspoken message. Their sheer aura making me stumble back.
Paralyzed by fear, I watch as they begin to move, a silent yet menacing presence in the abyss I am in.
With each movement, they seem to draw closer, closing the distance between us until I can feel their gaze searing into my very being.
Once more, the haunting voice calls out from the shadows, its silky timbre weaving through the air like a siren's song. "Seraphina..."
With a shiver, I turn on my heels, confronting the source of the enigmatic voice.
There, standing before me, are the same golden eyes, glimmering with an otherworldly allure. They move with a predatory grace, each motion calculated and deliberate, sending a chill down my spine.
As the voice continues its relentless call, I feel its resonance reverberating within me, filling me with a strange sense of recognition.
Though the voice does not utter my name, I can't shake the feeling that it is meant for me, that I am the one it seeks.
But I am not-
"Seraphina," it whispers, each syllable dripping with an intensity that leaves me breathless. Despite my attempts to deny it, the name resonates within me, stirring something deep within my soul.
"I- I'm not S-Seraphina," stammering, my words faltering in the face of the unearthly presence before me. But even as I speak, I watch in horror as the eyes begin to change, their once-golden hue darkening into something altogether more sinister.
The once-golden eyes now blaze with a fiery intensity of blood and gore, that pierces through the darkness, casting sinister crimson shadows upon the void. Turning everything I see now washed in blood-red.
As they lock onto me with an unyielding gaze, a wave of terror washes over me, freezing me in place.
Before I can react, the eyes lunge forward with an alarming speed, their depths now swirling with a menacing darkness.
I stagger backward, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggle to comprehend the unfolding nightmare.
In the blink of an eye, the haunting red eyes are upon me, their malevolent presence overwhelming my senses. I feel a chill run down my spine as the voice echoes in my ears once more, each word dripping with malice this time.
"Seraphina," it intones, a sinister promise of pain and suffering echoing in its wake.
Before I can react, darkness envelops me once more, the deafening sound of pounding drumming in the abyss, drowning out all other thoughts along with the last image of something white and pointy.
And I can't help but imagine they resembled very much to... fangs.
Rose's POV:
I startled up in a sitting position, my heart racing with the remnants of fear still coursing through my veins.
Frantically, I scanned my surroundings, half-expecting to find the menacing eyes of the predator lurking in the shadows of my room. Yet, all I encountered was the familiar sight of my mundane wardrobe bathed in the soft glow of morning light.
As the sun's rays invaded my sanctuary, I shifted in my bed, seeking refuge from both the intrusive brightness and the relentless pounding of my bedroom door. The rhythmic banging echoed in my ears, a stark contrast to the eerie silence of my dream.
Bang bang bang...
Slowly, the realization dawned upon me: what had felt so vivid and terrifying was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, a nightmare born from the depths of my subconscious.
But try as I might, I couldn't shake the lingering unease that clung to me like a suffocating shroud.
The memory of those haunting eyes, their transformation into pools of fiery red, haunted me still. It was as if a primal instinct within me recognized the danger they posed, triggering a visceral reaction that left me trembling in their wake.
And then there was that fleeting glimpse of white, a detail that lingered on the fringes of my consciousness like a half-remembered whisper. Could it have been teeth, bared in a predatory snarl?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me to ponder the true nature of my unsettling dream.
"Rose Blair Gabrielle, get up! It's already 8 am, you're going to be late for your flight again if you don't get your skinny ass out of that bed. Now!"
My aunt's frantic voice sliced through the haze of my thoughts, dragging me back to the harsh reality of my morning.
Don't get her wrong, she's nice. Just not very much when she is freaking out in the morning. Being late to anywhere is a big area of issue for her.
Groaning inwardly, I reluctantly peeled myself from the comfort of my bed, the remnants of my unsettling dream still clinging to the edges of my consciousness like cobwebs in the corner of a neglected room.
Oh joy.
As if the day wasn't already shaping up to be dreary enough, now I had my aunt's scolding to look forward to if I missed yet another flight to the infamous "Painesville."
Just the name alone was enough to evoke a sense of dread, reminding me all too well of the tumultuous past I'd left behind in my hometown.
While most people tend to get all sentimental and nostalgic about the town or city they were born and raised in, or simply spent most of their lives in, I find myself harboring anything but fond memories of that place.
It's almost as if that town has a knack for bringing nothing but death and chaos upon the Gabrielle name.
Yet, despite the seemingly cursed nature of our family's connection to the town, the Gabrielles have never turned their backs on it. We played a significant role in building it, and we remain committed to its people. However, it's hard to ignore the grim reality that every member of our family has met their demise within its borders, all through tragic accidents, leaving them six feet under the same ground they once called home.
The curse — if I dare deem it as such — stretches to the point where I might very well be the last Gabrielle standing.
Unless there are some potential hidden offspring from the Gabrielle escapades that once captivated the town, long before my time. Perhaps my great-great uncles or granddads weren't as dull as they seemed.
They certainly knew how to stir up gossip and intrigue — and let's face it, every small town thrives on a bit of scandal, especially when it's no bigger than a few city blocks and boasts a population about the size of patients in an asylum; always growing, yet never diminishing, yet never spilling over either.
There's not much about that town that I care to remember, but if there's one fond memory I can recall, it's of my one and only best friend.
Despite being separated since childhood, our friendship endured through phone calls, internet chats, and occasional visits—mostly initiated by her coming to visit me. I've never set foot back in that town ever since I left that night.
Apart from those fleeting memories, I have only a handful of hazy recollections of what I assume to be my parents and me as a family before that fateful day.
Since then, everything changed. Not just for me, but for everyone in town.
And now, reluctantly so, I must return.
Saying goodbye to my aunt was harder than I'd expected. She's the only family I have left, the one constant in my life. I've spent more than half my years in her care, cocooned in her love and unconditional support.
She reminds me so much of my mother, in the way she smiles, the way her hands never stop moving when she's trying to comfort someone, and the way she calls me "honey" with just the right amount of exasperation when I mess up. I guess that's what being sisters does—somehow tying two souls together so tightly that echoes of one linger in the other.
I don't have siblings. Just a teenage cousin who mostly stays locked in his room, doing what most teenagers do. You know, things I'd rather not think about.
Now, I'm heading back to my past, not because I want to, but because it seems like the only way to shape a future for myself. A future that was apparently already sketched out for me, long before I even knew how to spell the word "future."
It all started with a phone call.
I'd just been gearing up to apply for colleges right after high school when I got the news. Turns out, my parents had been looking out for me all along, planning for a future they wouldn't even be around to see.
Lake Erie College in Painesville, Ohio. That's where I'm supposed to go. That's where my parents had made sure I'd have a place, funding my education long before I was even walking. They'd supported the college during its early days, securing my spot as if they knew I'd need it one day.
After that call, I was left with two choices: ignore the plans my parents had laid out, toss their dreams aside, and live my life on my own terms—or honor their wishes, pack up my life, and return to the place I was once rescued from.
It's a lot to process. And honestly? It's depressing as hell.
But, on the bright side, I happen to love lemonade.
I know that sounds random, but it makes sense, doesn't it? When life hands you lemons—and believe me, it's been handing me a whole damn orchard lately—you don't waste them. You turn them into something. Something sweet, refreshing, and stronger than you were before.
So that's what I'll do. I'll make lemonade out of this mess, suck it up, and show that stupid town exactly what I'm made of.
And trust me, it's not lemons