A Legacy of Evil
by Marsea Brooklyn

Prologue

The windows rattled as thunder shook the frame of the white two-story house. Marsea Brooklyn awoke from a dreamless sleep, covered in sweat. She did not know how, because her bedroom was as cold as ice, and she hadn't had a nightmare; she hadn't dreamt about much of anything. She hadn't really had a true dream-filled sleep in as many years as she could remember, ever since she had been alienated in school, ever since her friends had turned against her.

Marsea had always been popular in school. That was, until weird things started happening to her. She couldn't explain why, but for some reason bad things seemed to happen to those people who vexed her. Everyone had taken to avoiding her in the halls after a girl who had spilled soda on Marsea at lunch had mysteriously sprouted off facial hair. Marsea didn't know what had happened, but the others at school were certain that somehow she had done it; they called her a witch.

Since that day she had not been able to sleep normally. She had visions in her dreams of serpents and evil; she dreamt of things that would make any sensible fifteen year-old cringe, but she didn't mind them. The demons were the only things she knew that wouldn't run away from her, scared that she would curse them. She had never felt so alone in her life. She knew in her heart that she was nothing more than a teenage girl. She was no more capable of cursing her classmates than any of them were of cursing her. In fact, they did far more harm with their frightened glances and accusatory glares than she ever could in a whole lifetime.

Her room filled with shadows as a bolt of lightning hit nearby; the resulting thunder was almost deafening. The ancient house shook on its foundation and her window banged open, allowing the storm to send sprays of water into the already freezing bedroom.

Shivering from head to toe, Marsea slipped out of bed, the cold floor stinging her almost numb toes. She padded noiselessly over to the window, pulling it shut and banishing the storm from her bedroom. She stood at the window for a moment, watching the tempest outside. She had loved storms ever since she was a young girl. She was amazed by their awesome power and unmatched strength. She had a bit of that power in herself, needing only to discover it. This she knew.

She started to turn away from the window but thought that she saw something, slipping through the shadows among the trees, a short distance away from her window. She stood, frozen, for a while, searching the shadows for more movement, her heartbeats quickening. She felt as though it would jump out of her chest and land on the windowsill. When nothing moved, she turned away from the window, closing the curtains to block out the storm and the ominous darkness.

Her feet now completely numb, she crawled back into her bed, the cold sheets stinging her legs. She lay back onto her pillow and pulled the blankets up to her chin, trying to block out the sinking feeling that was in the pit of her stomach.

She closed her eyes, imagining sounds that she couldn't really hear, slowly drifting off into unconsciousness....

She was in a place that she had never seen. A bedroom, she assumed, since she was lying in a bed. The room was enormous, even bigger than her own, and the bed in which she lay was highly decorated. It was a large four-poster, with a velvet canopy draped over top. Marsea tried to sit up, but couldn't move. Someone or something had a tight grip on her arms. She stared at the canopy, which was dark green with silver coiled as though weaving in and out of the fabric itself. The thick oak bedposts were also snakes, whose cruel faces were pointed at her, their mouths open, ready to strike. She couldn't see the rest of the room. It was so large that portions of it disappeared into shadows. She wondered what horrible beasts were in those corners, ready to attack her as she lay defenseless.

She watched in horror as the silver serpents above her head began to move, slithering, hissing at each other, exposing their forked tongues. The wooden bedpost snakes began to snap at her ankles, their fangs glistening as she curled up into a ball, whimpering.

She screamed, but made a sound that she had never heard before. She snakes froze at once, watching her. Her frightened blue eyes flashed, and the room dissolved around her. She awoke, once again in her own bed.

The rain had stopped, but thunder still continued to rattle the glass of her window. Marsea was trembling, but she felt warmer than before. She swallowed, realizing that her throat was completely parched. She crawled out of bed and tiptoed to the doorway, reaching for the handle. She had the vague notion that the doorknob might turn into a serpent and bite her hand, but she brushed it away. After all, it had only been a nightmare.

She exited her bedroom and padded down the dark staircase into the foyer. Flashes of lightning continued to illuminate the house and cast eerie shadows on the walls. She noticed that the front door was unlocked. Cursing her forgetful brother, she bolted it and stalked into the kitchen.

After pouring herself a glass of water, she walked quickly back to the staircase, thankful for the carpet that shielded her feet from the cold wooden floors below.

Lightning flashed again. The light enveloped the stairwell, and for the first time Marsea noticed the spots of burgundy liquid that were beginning to soak into the white carpet. She bent down for a closer look as another bang of thunder shook the house.

CRASH.

She had dropped her water glass, which shattered on the wood floor of the foyer.

Her heart quickened again. Breathing heavily, she followed the red stains to the top of the stairs and down the dark hallway toward the other bedrooms. The white stucco walls were splattered with red. The color was beginning to blur her vision as she stumbled down the hallway.

The door to her brother's bedroom was ajar. In a daze, Marsea pushed it open with trembling hands and cautiously stepped inside.

The scene with which her eyes met is not one that she is likely to forget. The whitewashed bedroom was covered in blood, and her brother's white bedspread looked like some sort of grotesque tye-dye. He was lying in the center of it, eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling, dead.

Marsea backed out of the room, trembling from head to toe. The stains continued down the hallway toward her mother's room, but she didn't follow them, knowing what she would inevitably find.

Her vision was becoming even more of a fog, and she had one clear thought. 'Get out of there.'

She ran down the stairs, fumbled with the deadbolt in the front door, and, managing to get it open, she waded into the cold night air.

Once clear of her porch she ran, stumbling over rocks and branches, ducking subconsciously every time lightening struck overhead.

She sprinted through the small forest behind her house, seeing demons in every shadow, and sure that she was being followed. She reached a large moor a mile from Brooklyn mansion, which was illuminated by the storm overhead.

The rain started again, the large drops soaking her pyjamas and making the ground slippery, but she continued to run. Her pace was slowing, however, and she had to gasp for breath she felt her lungs constrict.

She doubled over, falling to her knees on the saturated ground. Darkness was closing in around her as she felt her consciousness slipping away.

She collapsed onto her back, still wheezing, gagging on the rain that choked her.

Her last sight (though she thought she might have been hallucinating) was a human figure swooping down from the sky and landing next to her.
Then the darkness enveloped her consciousness and she passed out, the storm still raging overhead.

**Hello! Thank you for reading my story. This was just the prologue to a story that I have begun but not finished. If anyone reads and reviews it, I will post more, and I PROMISE that it will be an HP fic. I have big plans. Trust me. Thanks again, and feel free to email me at cowgirl_marsea@yahoo.com. ~*Marsea Brooklyn*~**