A story is nothing if not started from the very beginning, yet sometimes the beginning has nothing to do with the future but without it the future has no meaning. Here it goes I was very young when my story started, I was only at the age of 8. We travel through the village seeing a close community with people of all races and figures, one could see this was a rich village as the houses were built for a Noble family. As we traveled along the roads one boy caught my attention when he started following our carriage. We were close to the palace gates when the boy had vanished into the bushes, that was the last time I saw him until later in my life. I couldn’t forget this boy as he had haunted my dreams, he was not a normal boy he had claw like marks that covered the skin of his arms and eyes you would fear, for one was black as night and one blue as the sky

Cold winter air almost hitting my breath away as I walk along this snowy path. Houses decorated with Christmas lights; children's laughter heard from far away. The feeling of love and affection fills the air yet I feel lonely. Coming across a path of rose petals leading to nowhere in particular. Following the rose petals as they blow in the wind, they lead me to a house far away from the small village with no decorations or laughter, as I got closer to the house, I saw a girl sitting on the front porch with her head down. I tried to get as close as possible when I heard a twig snap, the sound echoing far in the still of night. She heard the sound just as I did, slowly looking up with the most angelic eyes pools of pure electric blue, pools that would capture you and drown you. Her eyes red cause of crying fresh tears running down her cheeks, fear known in them at the sound heard. Slowly she gets up looking all around her as if trying to see the danger that lurks in these woods.