The house looked over the small town of Clovelly. It, for as long as anyone could remember, had sat on top of the hill, looking old and crumpled and about to topple down at any given moment. The house had obviously once been handsome, a beautiful mansion, but over years of neglect and abandonment the house had quickly deteriorated. The bright yellow paint had chipped away and faded to a light gray from sun; the bricks had crumpled away in places, exposing the inside of the house; the white front door was scratched and had been taken off its hinges as someone had forced their way in...
The people of Clovelly thought very little about the house. It had been there when they were born, and, for most, they expected it to be looming in the distance when they left this world. Children, of course, knew the story- even feared it, wondering if the past may repeat itself once more. The rumours, although sometimes stretched, were mostly correct.
The last family to reside in the house for any given time had been the Fairbank's. The year, which was an estimate, had been around 1767; about ten years after the town had been established. The family had come to town one evening at the beginning of spring. The date had been March 23rd, and it had been unusually warm for March. It was clear to many of the town the family had traveled a difficult path, and quite obviously a long one.
The family had consisted of four people. Eve, the mother, had had long, silky red hair, with a face anyone would call lovely. She was slight; almost sickly looking, but yet impossibly beautiful. Patrick, the father, had had brown hair, and blue eyes. He was a strong man, not overly large, but hard with muscle.
Katherine was the oldest child, nearly seventeen years when they arrived. She, like her mother, was red haired, yet she had purple eyes, something the town had never before seen. They were beautiful, almost hypnotic, in a way. She was also slight, but not as her mother was. Their son, William, was twelve when they arrived, and completely convinced he was no longer a child. He was handsome as well, which he obviously got from his mother- yet, he looked nothing like her. He was tall for his age, blonde and green-eyed, completely different from the family.
They were an odd family- anyone who saw them would say that. They had lived outside Clovelly for an entire six months, and the town had only seen Patrick for any length of time. The children did not attend school, as the story went around that they were much more educated than anyone else in the town, and therefore would be wasting time in class. However, not everyone completely believed the story. Many thought Eve was quite ill and could not bear to have the children leave.
However, just after the six month point, on September 30th, Kate emerged from the house and began to socialize with the young men and women that were around her age. At first, people were hesitant. It was obvious that something was strange with the family, that they were not quite right.
Nevertheless, the town could not help but love her, including every boy in town. They chased after her in groups, sometimes fighting over her, and yet she never showed any preferences towards boys- if they chased her, she accepted it, no matter who he was.
Something was strange about her- no one could deny that. Her eyes were a little too hypnotic, especially towards boys. If she was to tell you to help her carry her shopping bags, or take her into town, he would do it instantly. It was as if there was no choice- and many said there wasn't.
One autumn day, however, everything turned sinister. She had been talking to William J. Clearwater, the son of the rich entrepreneur who lived on the other side of town. He had met Kate on the day she was finally seen in town, and had instantly fallen for her. Although he had tried everything to win her heart- from fighting the other young men in town, to sending her flower after flower- she continued to show no preference toward him.
He continued to become angrier and angrier, and finally decided one day that something had to be done, and quickly. He asked her to walk with him, as he did with all the girls he had previously cared for. She, of course, accepted, and around the lake they began to walk.
She, as always, kept her distance from him, walking directly beside him, but never touching him. This angered William, who was used to women wanting to be close to him, wanting to touch him. He reached for Katherine's hand, but as his hand got about halfway to hers, she jumped away, eyeing his hand in horror.
He apologized quickly, and began to walk once more. He peeked over at Katherine, and, seeing that she was walking much farther away than before, became even angrier. Finally, it boiled over, and he grabbed her shoulders and began to shake.
"What is wrong with you!" he screamed at her, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
"Why, nothing," she answered sweetly, not even looking shaken by this sudden eruption.
William looked at his hands on her shoulders, and realized his want, his need, to touch her bare skin. Skin not covered by this yellow material, but the smooth skin beneath...
His hands began to feel down her thin arms, over the three-quarter length sleeves of her dress. His hands suddenly stopped, right before her soft skin, and he looked up at her beautiful face, judging her reaction.
Katherine smiled sweetly at him, almost as if she was hoping for him to touch her. Suddenly, her eyes opened quite wide, and, as she held his stare, her pupils dilated. The beautiful violet of her eyes almost disappeared beneath the black, and suddenly they were back to normal, as if nothing had happened.
William continued to stare into her eyes, but now as if he was unconscious. His hands dropped from her arms, and he turned on the spot. He walked to the lake, never stopping, and dived in the water.
Anyone who had ever swam in the lake would know that the water was only about three feet deep where he jumped, and so days later, when his body washed up on shore, no one quite understood what could have happened. As a boy who had went swimming in the lake his entire life, why would he dive in, surely hitting his head against the rocky bottom.
Rumours flew about what had happened that day to William. Jessica McDonald, his actual girlfriend at the time, had been following Kate and William as they walked, and told the town she had been with him at the time.
Of course, there was no proof that Katherine had had anything to do with the drowning- but many blamed her for it, including, it seemed, her own family. Kate was never seen in public afterwards, and, although asked about her many times, her family acted as if they had no daughter at all.
It was said that they locked her in the cellar, where she ate, slept, bathed and lived. There was, of course, no proof; however many said if one walked along the dirt path beside their house at night, one could hear her screams as they tortured her for her behaviour...
Months passed, and it seemed that her brother, young William, took over the spotlight. He received nearly perfect marks in school, and all the girls began to adore him. All was forgotten in the case of Katherine Fairbank. It was if she had never existed- only a nightmare that was no longer so frightening.
Nevertheless, many noticed the light in the cellar of the Fairbank mansion. It was a single candle; the amount of light was proof of that. However, it never seemed to go out, even throughout the day. No matter the weather, rain or shine, the candle continued to burn.
All was well at the Fairbank mansion- or so it seemed. Life continued on, somewhat normally. That was until the night of Friday, May 13th, 1768.
Summer had come early that year, and the sun blazed down on the small town of Clovelly. As usual, the candle in the lowest window of the Fairbank mansion continued to burn, although the sun would most definitely be shinning through the window.
Friday the thirteenth had long since been passed as a silly superstition. The children, of course, rhymed off the sayings, laughing to each other about the joke.
"Step on a crack, break your mother's back!" one child screamed to another as they walked along the dirt path. The spring had been unusually dry- the cracks in the field were proof of that.
And that was when it all happened: The sun went down over the mountains in the distance, and, as the children walked home to their parents, past the mansion on the hill, a black cat crossed their path.
And down the children fell, like marionettes cut from their strings- never again to see their parents, or even the light of day.
They were found hours later, bloody and broken. It was obvious that some sort of animal had attacked them, for their necks had bite marks in them, some even appearing to draw blood.
The parents, of course, were horrified, but what could be done? The town had never before seen such bite marks, and there were no footprints to tell them.
And so life went on. The children were buried in the town graveyard, and nearly every man in town went looking for the horrific monster that had sent them there.
The men looked for months, hunting down nearly every animal in the area. And finally, one clear night in June, the men shot a wolf. It was obvious that the wolf was not right. Jack Watson, the mayor of *townname*, had shot the wolf thinking it was a bear. It stood nearly four feet, much larger than any wolf anyone had ever seen.
Thinking they had finally caught the killer, the men returned to the town and celebrated. Their children were once again safe- or so they thought.
It was only weeks later when they heard that Katherine Fairbank had disappeared, stolen from her own house. No one had been home at the time, but it was obvious there had been a struggle in the house. Blood splattered the walls, chairs and furniture was overturned- and Kate was nowhere to be found.
But there was no search for Katherine. William Clearwater's father made sure of that.
"She was a murderer. She killed dear William, and all of you know, deep down, that it is true. So good riddance, I say!" he told the town. They cheered at the idea.
And so Katherine went unlooked for.
Many in the town thought it strange when her family were seen in town much more often after the incident, but paid little attention.
Nearly three weeks had passed. It was a stormy summer night when she once again stood atop the hill, looking down at the town. They disgusted her. And they would pay for it.
And as she turned back to the house, lightning struck, causing a moment of light, enough to see the brilliant yellow paint.
It was then that William's father looked out his bedroom window. He had been preparing for bed, and thought it best to see how bad the storm really was. The flash of light came, and he seen the beautiful young woman standing upon the hill.
He stood frozen to the window, completely shocked at what he had seen. Had he been dreaming? Or had she actually been standing there?
And then, as he thought about her, another lightning strike came, and the hilltop was empty. He shook his head, wondering how he could have thought something so ridiculous. She was dead- everyone knew that.
And that was when the screaming began.
By the time anyone got to the house, the occupants were dead. It was obvious there had been a struggle: blood splattered the walls, and the victim's bones had been brutally broken.
Eve, Patrick and William were buried together that afternoon in the community graveyard.
That was the last time it ever rained in Clovelly.
And how do I know this, you ask? Well, you see, I killed them. My name is Katherine Fairbank.