Hello, all. I know it's been a while since I last wrote/updated anything. Years, in fact. But I've worked on my writing, and hopefully have improved.

This fiction will be a test of my skills as a writer, and hopefully without life getting in the way, we can see this through the start and finish.

Please enjoy, review if you wish-it will help the story expand, grow, and finish.

~Polynox

Chapter One:

"I want you to stay in the house when I am not home, and that is final."

My father glared down at me, in a stern, loving way. It was morning, cold outside, snow falling in flurries outside the kitchen window. He was just concerned. As a police officer, he felt it was his duty to not only protect the citizens of this small town, but also me, his only family. As many times as I tried to explain that it would be safe to walk alone during the day, he wouldn't hear it.

Girls, around my age-17-have been going missing for the past year and a half. My father and his men have been working night and day to find whoever, or whatever, was doing this, but they've always come up empty handed. Most of the girls were reported to wander out during nighttime, and never be found again. Completely vanished with no trace. They never found bodies, so it couldn't be said what was done with them.

Many of them had been my friends, classmates. My father pulled me out of school, said it would be better if I just never went out until the culprit was caught. You'd think he be a little more understanding. I was about to tear my own hair from my scalp, frustrated. I wasn't allowed to see any friends unless they came over, which none really did, due to the fact they were under house arrest, too.

I opened my mouth to speak back, to voice my complaints, but a knock on the door quieted both me and my father. He turned, strutting down the hallway, and opened the door to a teary-eyed woman I didn't recognize.

"Please," she sobbed, reaching out and clutching one bony hand around my fathers collar. I took a step forward, watching. "P-please, you have to help . . . it's my daughter . . ." Her voice cut off in hics and sobs, her face beat red and eyes barley open under all the tears.

My father took the woman's hand from his shirt. "Please, m'am, if you could just explain,"

"No time!" Her voice rose to a panicked wail. "She-she was just grabbed . . . edge of town . . . forest . . ."

My father, the heroic he was, immediately stepped outside with the woman, asking which way her daughter had disappeared.

Not only was this strange, it seemed . . . wrong. I wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but that woman . . . didn't seem right. And not just because she was falling to pieces over her supposedly kidnapped daughter. I took a step forward, watching as my father stepped out of view, obviously rushing to the rescue, when the woman turned her eyes, just for a second.

I froze, eyes wide as a slow smirk flickered on her face, eyes looking at me, menacingly inhuman now. And then it was gone, she was glancing at me with innocent, tear-filled eyes and then turned and ran after my father.

My heart pounded against my ribs. Was I just imagining things? My stomach knotted with unease, worry for my father, suspicious about the woman now. But why would she trick my father?

I knew I couldn't leave my father alone out there with that woman. But I paused in the doorway, the snow falling cold on my hair and shoulders. I looked up, using a hand to cover my eyes from the growing flakes. The sky loomed overhead, stirring with dark clouds.

I had little time to bundle up against the wind, which seemingly just started to grow harsher. I crossed my arms over myself, taking off mid-sprint the way I saw my father and the woman go.

It was quiet, except for my loud heartbeat and breathing in my ears. It was not unusual that no one was on the street. It was beginning to grow dark, and most people were already inside, fearing another girl might go missing. But it seems that had already happened, if the woman was not playing tricks.

The line of the forest was dark, sheltered from the tall lamp posts on the walkways. I looked over my shoulder, not seeing my father nor the woman anywhere. Surely they had come this way? This was the nearest entrance into the woods, anyways.

I was about to turn around and try a different place, but a flash of movement made me turn back around. Although nothing was there. I wasn't about to wander into the forest, lest my father kill me, or hell, I could get in trouble myself. I chewed on my bottom lip, a shiver quaking my body. I rubbed my upper arms, bare in my tank-top.

No, something was wrong. I needed to go get help, run to the police station and tell them what had happened. But I couldn't move my feet. I couldn't turn my head, either. I was frozen. Was it fear paralyzing me? . . . or something else?

A faint, long wail sounded not too far from the line of the forest, where I stood. I tried to run, to move, to get help, but I was still incapacitated.

The woman approached from the shadows, my limbs unlocking. I fell to my knees, my legs giving way, whether weak from being too still, or it was simply my own panic that was crippling me.

She bent on a knee in front of me, her face drawn blank. A flash of terror rocked my body, but I was unable to fling myself away from her, as her hand cupped my throat. She brought her lips next to my ear. The world seemed to halt for a moment, and for a split second I heard her speak.

"Too weak. You are too weak."

I blinked once, and she was gone. The tightness from her hand was still there, and I clutched at my throat, gasping in deeply.

"Siron!" I heard my father's voice from behind me, and tears filled the corners of my eyes. I turned to look at him. His face was slightly flushed in anger, but he looked relieved to see me.

"Father," I sighed, as he helped me to my feet.

"What the hell are you doing by the forest? You could have been snatched! What did I say about not going out when I wasn't home?"

My eyebrows furrowed, confused. "I was just worried . . . you took off with that woman so suddenly . . ."

He cut me off mid sentence. "What the hell are you talking about, Siron? I left for work two hours ago. You said goodbye to me, don't you remember? You were watching TV in the living room."

"I . . . what?" My voice was just a whisper. What was going on? My father never went after the woman? But I saw him. I saw her.

He looked me once over while I shook with realization, my mind was numb just trying to figure out what was going on. "Did you fall? Did you hit your head or something?"

"N-no. I mean, I don't think so." I faintly remembered now-I said goodbye to my father as he left for work. I had gone to sleep. Had . . . had I been dreaming? But . . . it was too real.

"Look, we can talk more when you're inside, safe and warm. Can you walk?"

"Yes," I said quietly, stumbling back home with my dad.

We were both silent in our walk.

Had I been sleepwalking? Surely . . . this has to be a joke of some kind. There was no way that it could all be a dream. I mean, I knew something was wrong from the start, but . . .

"Too weak. You are too weak."

Too weak . . . I was . . . too weak?