Okay this is another Maximum Ride fanfiction.
Disclaimer:
Prolog
Accidents happen, mistakes bad judgment calls. None are intentional none were done with malicious intentions. Although, sometimes things are done with intentions, but are branded as "just an accident". It could be due to lack of evidence or there is no proof of devious intentions or it could be due to something else. On March 5, 2004 at 10:02 a.m. the caretaker of the Morte Estate stepped down the creaking hall of the old house. Her fingers clutching the Windex bottle loosely, as she sang I had a dream under her breath. She was young and sprite only 26 with a five year old son and a husband. Money had been tight and the pay-check for caring for this place was high. At the time it had seemed like a perfect idea to her. Her grandpa had grown up in this house before it had been abandoned. It was practically like spending time in her history whenever she stepped into the house. I am sure if she was able to still look back at things she would regret it. You see Mrs. Morte died at 10:03 a.m. Dropping dead on the dark cracked mahogany flooring, while wilding clutching her throat. The only thing they could find was a slight crack on her neck right on top of a vital pressure point. They branded the death an accident; reasoning that she had slipped. Now answer this simple question do people just simply slip on the flooring? She had perfect balance and was extremely healthy. People don't just drop dead on the floor. There are a couple anomalies regarding death, but this was just too strange. You see at 9:04 a.m. a flower bouquet arrived with 13 blood-red roses all wrapped up in a drooping black bow. A faded note was attached to the ribbon, written in bright red ink were the words: I am sorry for your loss maybe you can learn from past mistakes. Even so the cops ignored it feeling it was unimportant, disregarding it for a useless sentimental gift. In the following 11 months each cop that had stepped into the house died mysteriously. Their deaths ranged from driving off a cliff to dropping dead in the super market. Once again they were said to be coincidences and the case was not even investigated. However, on the street the house rests on you can hear the neighbors whisper as they pass the house and the children never retrieve their lost balls. For 8 ½ years no one took care of the house. It fell into disrepair until the Martinez family moved in the new care takers of the house. One widow and her two daughters, Ella and Max all took a step into the This is a story of a strange house and an even stranger group kids all tied together with the blood red strings of fate. If they fail the strings will tighten chocking the breath out of each one, one by one.