Don't Own Twilight!
Prologue
Amy Thompson hated her job. Everyday she would walk from Cabin 1 to Cabin 15, pushing the old shopping cart, carrying her supplies. Her only companions on the long trek from Cabin 1 to Cabin 15 were a broom, a mop, ratty old rags, and various disinfectant sprays.
Most 16 year old girl had to work in her small town, most at the movie theater or the pool. Half of her friends scored dream jobs at Marty's Supermarket and the other at Ice's Ice Cream Shoppe. But not her, she was given the job of cleaning Cabins 1 through 15, of the family owned Thompson Hills Resort. Which wasn't much of a resort, but people still came, and they made messes. Messes they were too lazy to clean up, messes that Amy Thompson was stuck cleaning.
Her mother promised her as soon as she was done she could meet her friends at the movies. She would be free of the boring, monotonous, trek from Cabin to Cabin and the unending maze of dirt and sprays that hurt her nose.
She swept through Cabins 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, with ease, nothing out of the ordinary. In Cabin 6 she found 5 dollars in the crack between the bedside table and the bed, how exciting. In 7, the kitchen was in complete disarray and 15 minutes was added to the already long cleaning schedule.
When she reached Cabin 8, her mood changed. Cabin 8 was no different than any other Cabin. It had the same decrepit roof and chipped paint, but it was separated from the other Cabins. It seemed to have an invisible force that kept it far from the others. It was the same 9 or 10 feet as the rest of the cabins where from each other, yet seemed light-years away.
Amy walked up the large steps, painted in the cheap rooster red paint her mother adored and opened the door of Cabin 8. What waited for her there was one of the most gruesome sights she or most other people had ever seen. She opened her mouth and screamed.
A tiny brunette, whose face was now covered in bruises was strewn across the couch covered in blood, her shirt was so drenched it appeared to be red, not the pure white it actually was. A couple feet away lying face down on the floor was a man. He was also covered in blood. From the doorway where she stood there was long line of blood leading into the door of the master bedroom.
Amy Thompson hated her job. It was boring and monotonous, as was her life. But after that morning and after that discovery Amy Thompson's life would never be the same.
A.N. I just need to know from the prologue does this sound like it needs to be rated M or T? It may be graphic. This will be inspired by The Manson Murders, The Keddi Murders, 'The Strangers', and my own twisted imagination. Oh and Amy has nothing to do with the story. This story will probably be really short with an alternate storyline. If you have time please check out my other stories.
Please Review and have a good day!