Prologue – Hope and Joy
October 31st, 2004
Denver, Colorado
Ding-Dong!
Keith Anderson ignored the doorbell and took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing a puff of smoke out of his mouth. It was like this every Halloween. All the kids in the neighborhood were out trick-or-treating and ringing on his doorbell and interrupting his alone time. Scars decorated his arms and wrists from endless cutting, relieving him of stress. It was painful, but at the same time soothing. He had no reason to even live, anyways.
Ding-Dong!
He ignored the doorbell once more. Just more kids wanting free candy… he thought, continuing to smoke. Greedy little bastards. There were no pictures decorating the walls of his house except for one hanging above the couch in the living room of a young woman with chestnut hair and green eyes, someone he once loved. Keith had forgotten about it, but that was good. He didn't want to remember her; she was gone forever.
Ding-Dong!
"Damn trick-or-treaters!" he muttered to himself, walking to the door and preparing to yell at whoever was at his doorstep. He opened the door, and there was nobody. Not even a fly. He looked down to see a basket covered with a foul-smelling blanket. It had a few crimson stains on it, and he had to squint to read the message. SAVE THEM. He shuddered, and suddenly didn't want anything to do with the package, but picked it up and brought it inside anyways.
He hastily pulled off the blanket, and expected some sort of demon spawn to jump out at him. But there was no demon, or monster, or any crazy thing like that. Two baby girls stared back at him with big, curious eyes. They both had black hair, but different eyes. One had red eyes the color of a ruby, but slightly darker. The other had dark purple eyes with a hint of black. For some reason, they made Keith smile for the first time in months. "Hope and Joy…" he murmured, deciding he would adopt them, "…that's what I'll call you."
END OF PROLOGUE
Did I do well? Please rate and review so that I can improve! Don't bother flaming me, though. You know the rule: Constructive criticism is allowed, flames are not. See you next chapter!
