Night fell slowly but surely in the Verona Manor. Outside the cackles of pokemon of the night could be heard when the moon shows itself from behind the clouds. Flashes of dull light would be given off by the moon, only allowing the sight of the flaming red eyes of the pokemon surrounding the house. The fountain in the courtyard ran ever steadily as the watery noises disrupted the fake tranquillity. Throughout the hallways light was fading and darkness was inching its way closer and closer. Candles were lit throughout the house to ward it off. The drapes fell and the curtains were pulled down.
There was an ominous aura in the air as Mrs. Verona slept serenely in her enormous bedroom. Her golden blonde hair not showing off its usual luster. Many people came to know her as a beautiful woman. She had been good friends with many of the townsfolk. They had often known her for her grace and elegance as she would flaunt her three almost perfect children. She had always been a sort of leader of the town, active in government councils and safety committees. The halo of perfection that loomed over her head always preceded her. Although this outer shell of hers was very liked, inside lay deep personal problems. She was unsatisfied with the monotony of her life. The weight of her own reputation eventually started to cripple her as she carried it on and on every waking day. There was no rest for her in being a role model for the people. Her children and husband became tools for her life in the limelight. She molded them, much to their dismay, into the perfect family. Always dressed sharply and conducted properly. She based her entire life on the flawlessness of her household. The people she was supposed to love were being drawn into a lie. They were not the perfect family. The were, in fact, falling apart from the inside.
Felicia, the first born of her prized triplets, was a gorgeous girl and amazing person in public, as her mother intended, but was looked down upon by her in home life. Her calm demeanor, usual attire of a black denim jacket and a short black skirt, and shoulder length black hair were not her mother's idea of perfection. She would engrave her way into Felicia with every moment. Even though she begged for her mother's approval, within her began to grow and intense hatred for her and herself for not being able to please her. This was not also the case for Dante, the second born and most hated of the three. His long, ear length black hair, extremely pale skin and gothic style of clothing, which paralleled that of Felicia's, was constantly mocked and unapproved of by his mother. Unlike his sister, Dante was the least caring of what his mother had to say, and would hardly ever be seen with her in public. Most people in the town didn't even know she had a son. Through his dark sunglasses he would watch his mother sink deeper and deeper into the whole she had created for herself. His mother despised him and he couldn't care less. He thought of his mother as a bad joke that was beneath him. He steered away from anything that had to do with her and did his best to completely disassociate himself from his mother. Unlike the first two, the third born of the triplets, Tiffany, was the epitome of everything her mother saw as good. She was as tall and her brother as sister, with long golden locks. In appearance she was most similar to her mother, whereas the first two siblings resembled their father's dark-haired features. Tiffany was considered by her viewers, including her mother, as the most beautiful girl in town, though in truth her beauty did not exceed that of Felicia's. By adhering to her mother's strict codes of excellence, Tiffany climbed the totem pole of society rather quickly. She would join her mother in all of her town activities and loved her dearly. Her brother and sister resented her for caring for their mother so much, but it did not cause a rift among them. Tiffany was not like her mother when it came to the relationships with her siblings. She loved her brother and sister just as much as her mother, which allowed her siblings to tolerate her. She never had any bad intentions toward anyone, so her sibling found it impossible to dislike her and quickly apologized for any hurt feelings. She was never in the loop with Felicia and Dante, most likely because of her closeness to her mother. Because of this she was more distant to Dante than Felicia and vice versa. Mrs. Verona would not allow her children to train pokemon, as she saw them as dirty animals not worth the time of a true lady or gentleman. Mr. Verona disagreed with this assumption and secretly taught his children the art of being a successful trainer, as he was back in his day. His Alakazam was his prize fighter and he would demonstrate with him to show his kids what and what not to do. Mr. Verona became more and more inclined to not listen to his wife anymore as the time passed on. He sensed she was starting to change but not for the better.
The relationship between Mrs. Verona and her husband had diminished to almost nothing by the time her exuberance reached its zenith. Her husband, Mr. Verona, always in a suit, was a tall man in stature, though balding. He simply didn't love his wife anymore as she had been sucked into her own mind games. He loved his three children equally, although he had to admit that Felicia was really the most mature and best overall of the three. Dante was left out of the loop in this manner, and was no one's favorite. He received the least amount of love and help, but consequently he needed it the least. Mr. Verona was not a man to tell someone how much he loved him or her. He was a hard man, but did care for his family. Even though he was a good father, he could not have known what would happen to his family in the near future.
Two of Mrs. Verona's children were disgusted at how fake she was, and the other was too blind by her own innocence to realize anything was wrong. Mrs. Verona sank into a typical depression that most middle-aged women experience in their lives. Her two "other" children and husband dismissed her condition as trivial and refused to help her. Tiffany would be at her bedside with her, but was not aware of how demoralized her mother really was after living a lie for years. As she sank deeper and deeper, Mrs. Verona started to let herself be drawn into things that would help pass the time. When she came to witchcraft, she knew she had found something that would change her life. She kept this life a secret and would hide herself and her experiments in the tucked away corner in the basement of the mansion. Her research into the topic allowed stronger experiments to be tested instead of mere voodoo dolls and flying brooms. Night and night again, evil pokemon would creep up to the window that looked down into the basement and feed off the black magic Mrs. Verona would create. These pokemon would become bloodthirsty and vengeful due to the darkness that surrounded them and would corrupt people and nature in their wake. The trees around the manor would die and the flowers black and crushed as if by gravity.
As she slept in her bed that night, a dark figure leaned over her body. The same cackles heard on most nights were the strongest they had ever been. The window was open and the drapes were harassed violently by the wind. The only light was the bare candle next to her bed. The blackness of the walls would have been a dark wooden color if it were not for the lack of light. The shadow of the creature showed up on the wall and instantly faded away as a delayed and gargling scream was heard through the house. She was found seconds later by her husband in a twisted form, her skin and ash color and her body in a position to the side as if she had been burned to death in an oven. Her face was frozen in the position of a scream, her mouth agape, and her once blue eyes were as black and crisp as the night she had died on. The eyes stared at her husband as he feel back into the wall screeched for his wife.