You and I see the would differently you see a bee and think ‘move away’ I think ‘get closer’. However all life is beautiful, no matter how close you see it or even how you see it. Because without that bee there’s no you.
She closed the book, and fell into a trance looking out the window at the rain, and silently thought you see the rain as ‘wet’ I see it as ‘a puzzle piece of life’. She head Dora playing in the other room and but her pen and to paper and wrote her name down. Then slowly got up stretching all the sour muscles. She failed to notice the dark shadow drifting by the window
“Dora, sweetly time for bed”, however Wendy knew what to expect from the five year old. The little girl slowly got up eyeing Wendy. She dropped the Barbie dolls and sprinted into the kitchen giggling. Wendy sighed following in close pursuit. “ I’m gonna get you I’m gonna get you”, she yelled in a fake monster voice. Dora giggled as they dived back an forth by the counter isle. “ Can’t catch me!” She shrieked, as Wendy scooped up the little girl. “ Oh yes I can yes I can!” She climbed up the stairs tickling Dora as she went.
She sighed climbing down the stairs Dora was tucked in, and the grandfather to ticked 7 o’clock. It was time to lock up. She took the lavender candles from the drawer and lit them in the window will. Then she took the iron filings and scattered them by the entree ways. Humming as she went.
It was ten years ago, ten years since then outbreak. The barriers of nature had been broken when the mythical creatures had started to terrorize neighborhoods. Nightmares, ghouls, vampires and werewolves had flooded the land of night. There were ways one could protect them self however. The sweet sent of lavender could fend off sickly ghouls, iron things could fend off werewolves pretty well. But nightmares there was no way except a dream catcher, and the most powerful nightmares could make it past that. They shifted forms at will, reading your darkest secrets and your greatest fears. Vampires couldn't enter your home unless given permission, which wasn't hard with their good looks. But iron kept them from the doorways so you could pick them out from humans. However the one weakness they all shared was silver. It could kill them.
Mrs. Sanderson was a prominent known figure in society as her late husband ran a good handful of the silver mines. She had gone away for a meeting at the capital hall leaving her only daughter Dora in Wendy’s charge. Wendy was sixteen with blond hair and thick glasses, not well know for her good looks- but her good heart. She could play the piano fairly well, and formal figures loved her quiet manners. People her age were kind to her but kept their distance, as she was different in so many ways. She lived alone, her parents killed in a accident years ago. Wendy enjoyed her solitary life, she wasn't a chatty person. She worked at the library full time, and the weekends and spare time she could be found at the coffee shop with a good book and iced tea.
She finished up and heard Mrs. Sanderson’s limo pull up. “ Wendy!” The middle aged woman cried as her driver opened the door,” I do apologize for being later then agreed to. “ That’s fine Mrs. Sanderson, I took the liberty of locking up as the hour had gone quiet late.” Mrs. Sanders got out taking Wendy’s hand and pulling her inside. “ That’s fine dear, quiet fine. Timothy!” She called out in a loud voice, the driver turned to her,” yes?” He asked in a thick English accent,” you are to drive Wendy here home.” She said as Wendy picked up her bag. “. Oh that’s fine ma’m, it’s still quiet early and I came ready to walk home, she said reveling her sliver dagger that she kept at her hip for protection. “Are you sure dear?” The old woman asked unsure. “Yes ma’m good night.” The woman nodded her off and closed the door.
Wendy would have driven, but her car had been called into the shop for repairs on the gas tank. She was starting to regret leaving it. The night was dark as clouds covered the moon like a blanket. Mrs. Sanderson ‘s house was located near a thin stretch of wood, secured by nightly hunting parties. Somehow the thought didn't make her feel safe.
She kept walking her boots sloshed against the muddy dirt path. And the rain fell softly against the umbrella, the storm slowing to a stop. She relaxed somewhat. Then she heard it a unearthly like sound it echoed through the trees and was unlike anything she had ever heard. A wailing sound which told of sorrow and heartbreak. And without thinking she followed it, off the path and into the woods.