Author's note: Hey everyone, just recently I've become somewhat obsessed with True blood and I wanted to try my hand at writing a Fanfic. I know that this first chapter doesn't entirely seem to be related to the show, but this is just a prologue of some sorts. I would really like it if those who are reading it could review to let me know whether or not to continue with it or not. I have a pretty good idea with what is going to happen, but some chapters I might just let write themselves.

Thanks for reading my blabber, ENJOY!

Chapter one: The beginning

"G'night Steve!" I called out over my shoulder, pulling on the old jean jacket that I've had for years. Miss matched patches and little trinkets were sewn to the surface and because of this jacket, I was often referred to as the "walking wind chime". Steve was always joking that he didn't really need a bell above the door since I had been hired; all he had to do was hang my jacket.

He waved me away, still counting today's income, "yeah, see you later." Steve was always making me laugh, he never really paid any attention to the store or the customers, he left that to me. When a new shipment of acrylic paint would come in, I was the one who had to take the order, sign it and make sure everything was there. When boxes of canvas would come in, I had to inspect each one to make sure they weren't dinted or scratched. If a customer needed help and they went to him, he wouldn't even look up from his magazine to give them directions, in the end, they came to me.

Not that he was a bad guy, he was nice enough but he just didn't have a genuine feel towards people, I guess it was a bad idea to open up an art supplies store when people are in and out all the time. One time, a girl roughly the age of sixteen came in and she looked so lost, and irritated at the same time. Taking pity on her I asked if she needed any help and her response was "you can't be any worse than the tattoo guy at the front." The comment made me laugh and she had looked at me like I had a second head.

She never came back.

Ah, well I thought as I walked down the streets in the direction of my house. Night had rolled around and the moon shone brightly casting elegant shadows across the ground. Technically I shouldn't walk alone at night, who knows what is out there lurking in the shadows ready to spring at me, but I didn't see the point in calling a Taxi or waiting around for Steve to finish when I could walk home in fifteen minutes or less. Besides, it was such a beautiful night and the flirting between my hair and the light breeze felt nice.

Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to live in an extremely busy city like New York, everyone bustling around, the streets crammed with cars and the never ending light show of billboards and store fronts. Then again, I don't think I'd be able to handle all the hustle and bustle, there's just something about small towns that I prefer and sometimes, even this one is too big for me. In a weird way, there's just something homey about living in a community where everyone is friendly with everyone, even if they aren't acquainted.

Slowly, the darkness was becoming more and more eerie so I started to hum to myself to try and make an attempt at calming my senses that were on high alert. I walked as fast as I could with out tripping over my own feet and was rewarded when my home loomed in front of me. As I continued I noticed my sister's car was in the driveway.

I thought she was working late tonight.

I padded up the front steps and fished into my pocked for my set of house keys and found that I actually didn't need them, the door was pushed open a crack and the lights were off. I pushed open the door and it swung then hit the wall, I stood there peering in and called out to my sister.

There was no answer.

Cautiously stepping forward, I threw my hand out in front of me and squinted my eyes to see if the darkness would become clearer, when it didn't I edged forward with my hands smoothing themselves across the walls, I hoped I didn't trip or fall.

"Clara?" I called out again, my eyes darting back and forth in the darkness before coming to the end of the hallway, my fingers found the light switch and the ceiling illuminated itself, bringing light down to the room in front of me which now lay in disaster.

"What the he…" I trailed off, stepping over one of the chairs that lay on its side.

Dishes lay on the floor in pieces, the table was split down the middle and all of the cupboards were wide open or the doors were ripped off their hinges. Our pantry was pulled across the room as if it was supposed to be an obstacle. Our lamps were broken all over the room and the curtains were in shambles, everything in this room screamed struggle and I still couldn't grasp what had happened.

I headed towards the hallway where the other bathroom and the bedrooms were, our paintings and frames lay on the floor, the glass smashed and spider webbed. Clara's room lay in the same disastrous way as the living room and kitchen had been, her door lay in a severely cracked piece on the floor.

That's when the hysterics came in and I started screaming for my sister.

"CLARA!" I screamed running back out into the living room.

I looked around frantically before running to the front again and yelling out the door, "CLARA!!!"

I dashed back into the living room, praying that the phone was still in tact and that's when I saw it and my mouth dropped open.

The sliding glass doors were open and the wind was blowing the ripped curtain, one single bloody handprint was smeared on the glass.

I screamed.