Title- A Basket of Apples
Summary- They said it was the beginning of the end. But nothing is ever set in stone, is it?
A/N- So… New story. Heh. This is going to have it's fair share of romance, Supernatural happenings, Horror, General South Park weirdness, and... Oh and this is AU.
I got the idea partially from Noodle311 who's going to be doing a Horror/Romance for a sequel to her story… and it made me want to do my own Supernatural/Horror story.
Fun, fun, fun.
Well, this is the prologue, and I hope you like it! xD (oh, and, sorry about weird spacing. Fanfiction's been actin' weird. xD;)
Wendy should have known not to answer the door.
The reassuring light of day was dying into darkness. She was alone in the house, with only the low voice of the Weatherman on the television to keep her company- anything to fill the silence. He kept talking about the heavy rain that Park County was going to get in the next week.
She clutched her blanket as she heard a soft, persistent knock on the door. She rose slowly from the sofa, and for a moment felt as if she didn't have control of her legs, like she couldn't have stopped herself if she wanted to. But it was late, and maybe she was being paranoid. Quickly slipping on a pair of tennis shoes, she cautiously walked towards the door.
Whatever Wendy had been expecting, it wasn't this.
A young boy stood there, no older than eight or nine, judging by his height and the childish roundness of his face. He wore baggy cargo pants, a plain white T-shirt, and a dirty baseball cap. His long, sandy-blonde bangs covered his eyes, making it difficult to read his expression. All in all, he looked like a normal kid. So why did she have this unnerving feeling that something about him was very wrong?
"Can I help you?" Wendy forced out, struggling to keep her voice even. It felt vital, for some reason, that he not sense her nervousness.
"I was, um, wondering if I could use your phone?" The kid mumbled softly, still staring down at his raggy sneakers. His voice was normal, but something was off about the tone- he sounded so detached, as if he was reading from a movie script or a cue card.
Wendy found herself searching for eyes underneath his messy hair. After a minute, she realized he was waiting for a reply, and she said the first thing that came to her mind, which happened to be the truth:
"We, uh, we just moved here, and our phone isn't hooked up yet."
"Is that so?" Suddenly the boy's head jerked out of its shy position, until his gaze was level with Wendy's.
In that instant, all the unnameable dread Wendy had felt was justified, all the abstract pieces snapped together to create something tangible. She gulped and fought to suppress her scream.
His eyes were pure black.
Wendy's first thought was that this was something natural, that the pupils of his eyes had overflowed somehow, covering the irises and the whites until all that was left were these blank pools of darkness.
But that was only her overly rational mind looking for an explanation, there was nothing natural about this; this was something straight out of a horror novel, something unfathomable, something- OTHER.
Wendy noticed, with a jolt of pure terror, that her mouth was moving. She couldn't stop the words.
"Aren't you going to come in?" She could only watch from a corner of her own mind, paralyzed, as the thing-whatever it was- smiled, nodded, and stepped into the house.
No one knew it yet, but it was the beginning of the end.