Possessed (Edited Edition)

Christopher Clarence. There's something really strange about that boy. He's wide eyed and pale faced. Every time he grins, death strikes again. Surely a small boy cannot commit such a crime? But who's behind this massacre?

Copyright (C)

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1. Prologue

 

 

Those dressed in black, wept and wailed. Some stood stationary, overwhelmed by the disastrous catastrophe that took place. A huge rabble of loved ones crowded a polished wooden grained coffin. The priest said the holy prayers and all departed. All but two...

It was a bleak and shadowy Sunday afternoon, a small boy named Christopher and his father William Clarence, stood in front of a new grave stone stating:

’Fleur Clarence 1958 - 1997'

William stood crimpled and trembling. His eyes were sore from salty tears spilling out like rivers. William held his sons hand tight and firm, while he whispered. 

"Your mother’s gone, and never to return. You’re my only memory left of her. I love you son." William sniffled and started to sob again. He never imagined to see the day his beautiful wife Fleur Clarence dead and buried six feet under.

His son Christopher smiled fiendishly, but then again, he was only small. He didn't understand much of what was going on. He didn’t understand the feeling of losing someone. The poor boy didn’t yet realise his mother was dead. As dead as a door nail. As for his father, he was dismayed and heavy hearted, for he was to never feel his wife’s warm lips on his, or embrace her in warm hugs.

Both dressed in black suits and white shirts were silent. Stillness moved throughout their journey home. The raindrops that fell outside, decorated the window, whilst merging with each other. Those raindrops were a representation of how William was feeling about his loss.

The old rusty grey car came to a halt in front of a towering, overcast house. Some windows were cracked and curtains waved like ghosts in the light breeze. The wooden balcony started to break and fill with mold  Trees near by looked like mysterious creatures, which cast spooky shadows on the damp, wet floor. William took out his old keys and twisted it in the lock. Before them opened the big, wooden, front door as they both stepped inside...

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