A/N: I know this doesn't make much sense right now, but it will, trust me. Enjoy!!!!
Introduction: The screaming
Most people pretended they couldnt't hear the screaming. But it was there to be heard. Deafening screams often pierced the cold, clear night air surrounding the small village in Hopesville. The night air was loyal; it swam continuously throughout the small town, meticulously surveying each home and its inhabitants. People, however, don't like to be burdened with such scrutiny. They prefer to shut certain out of their minds, so they don't feel the guilt. One of these things is the screaming.
The sound tavels from the smallest stone house in Hopesville, with the most raggedy-looking shutters, and the scarcest thatched roof. The little house had belonged to an old, deaf man, a stout personage who's scalp was nearly completely bald, with the exception of the gray tufts around his ears. He could never speak well to begin with, and his disability made any verbal communication an arduos task. So it was with great luck that his young daughter had lived with him, and was able to interperate things for him,
She was a pretty young maiden, with long waves of chesnut hair, and large green eyes that showed hints of icy blue in them. She was very close to her father, so his death was devastating for her. He never had much, he couldn't even afford to put his daughter fully through school. He only tended vegetables quietly in the back of the tiny house for her to sell at the market. But he did have the house.
And so the smallest stone house in Hopesville, with the most raggedy-looking shutters and the scarcest thatched roof became hers.
But a house once filled with love had grown immensly dark, and now cries of help and screams were all the night air could make of the place. The cries were those of a woman, a lost souls shattered by her confusion. Also, a child. A helpless, defensless baby plunged unwillingly into vicious darkness.
But the ever-prominent screams, the screams that chilled the blood of anylive, breathing thing that happened to be in earshot, the screams that everyone pretended not to hear, and the screams that the cold, clear night air remained faithful to, belonged to a man. A man of hate, cruelty, the very essence of darkness. The screams were of anger, terrifyingly real anger. His anger was the prominent source of all despair within the place, for he was despair and darkness. The essence of evil, and his occupation was pain oppression, and cruelty.
The maiden had no power over him. Her simple, happy world had been destroyed, and her child and been born into a life of hatred.
And so the screaming carried on. The man of anger, the woman whose smile was lost forever, and a baby who had yet to live. And still people shut out the sound, grinned falsely as if it wasn't there...
The day came when a flash of light illuminated the periwinkle sky. One ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream was heard. One. A cry that seemed to come from the sole core of humanity, the deepest pain that could ever be felt. And then, all in an instant, it was gone.
Silence.
No screams. No crying. No pleas of help. Nothing, The house now seemed, in 50 seconds, as though it had been empty and condemned for 50 years.
And then, when the cold, clear night air traveled through Hopesville, inspecting the smallest stone house, with the most raggedy-looking shutters and the scarcest thatched roof, it heard the faintest whimpers of a child. The same child.
Alone with the night air.
Introduction: The screaming
Most people pretended they couldnt't hear the screaming. But it was there to be heard. Deafening screams often pierced the cold, clear night air surrounding the small village in Hopesville. The night air was loyal; it swam continuously throughout the small town, meticulously surveying each home and its inhabitants. People, however, don't like to be burdened with such scrutiny. They prefer to shut certain out of their minds, so they don't feel the guilt. One of these things is the screaming.
The sound tavels from the smallest stone house in Hopesville, with the most raggedy-looking shutters, and the scarcest thatched roof. The little house had belonged to an old, deaf man, a stout personage who's scalp was nearly completely bald, with the exception of the gray tufts around his ears. He could never speak well to begin with, and his disability made any verbal communication an arduos task. So it was with great luck that his young daughter had lived with him, and was able to interperate things for him,
She was a pretty young maiden, with long waves of chesnut hair, and large green eyes that showed hints of icy blue in them. She was very close to her father, so his death was devastating for her. He never had much, he couldn't even afford to put his daughter fully through school. He only tended vegetables quietly in the back of the tiny house for her to sell at the market. But he did have the house.
And so the smallest stone house in Hopesville, with the most raggedy-looking shutters and the scarcest thatched roof became hers.
But a house once filled with love had grown immensly dark, and now cries of help and screams were all the night air could make of the place. The cries were those of a woman, a lost souls shattered by her confusion. Also, a child. A helpless, defensless baby plunged unwillingly into vicious darkness.
But the ever-prominent screams, the screams that chilled the blood of anylive, breathing thing that happened to be in earshot, the screams that everyone pretended not to hear, and the screams that the cold, clear night air remained faithful to, belonged to a man. A man of hate, cruelty, the very essence of darkness. The screams were of anger, terrifyingly real anger. His anger was the prominent source of all despair within the place, for he was despair and darkness. The essence of evil, and his occupation was pain oppression, and cruelty.
The maiden had no power over him. Her simple, happy world had been destroyed, and her child and been born into a life of hatred.
And so the screaming carried on. The man of anger, the woman whose smile was lost forever, and a baby who had yet to live. And still people shut out the sound, grinned falsely as if it wasn't there...
The day came when a flash of light illuminated the periwinkle sky. One ear-piercing, glass-shattering scream was heard. One. A cry that seemed to come from the sole core of humanity, the deepest pain that could ever be felt. And then, all in an instant, it was gone.
Silence.
No screams. No crying. No pleas of help. Nothing, The house now seemed, in 50 seconds, as though it had been empty and condemned for 50 years.
And then, when the cold, clear night air traveled through Hopesville, inspecting the smallest stone house, with the most raggedy-looking shutters and the scarcest thatched roof, it heard the faintest whimpers of a child. The same child.
Alone with the night air.
