The horror of love

The horror of love 1

Chapter 1
The graveyard.

It was an average Wednesday in October, where the leaves had been painted with blazing, fiery colours and the clouds knitted together covering the sky in shades of grey. You could smell the wet muskiness of the bark glittering in raindrops and, as I trudged through the blanket of leaves on the ground, I tugged my burgundy leather bag closer against me. The icy wind whipped my thin auburn hair, its loose little curls at the end danced solemnly down my back. The colour matched the world around me, and it grew fiery in the winter and looked more like dripping honey in the golden sun. My eyes were a glassy pale green and my lips were small and taut, but soft like my wintery paper skin that got lighter and more luminous as the winter months dragged on.

I had just gotten out of school, and what a day it was. Classes felt like hours, and I sat at the back with my hair covering sides of my face, as if to block out the world around me. It's not that I don't have friends, it's just I'd rather sit alone listening to music, just waiting for the clock to strike 3. I don't understand people and when people try to talk to me, I never know the right things to say, people can be mean, and I can always tell when people are judging me, they can never hide it. It wasn't a different day, no, all the days were the same, the repetition bores me, the continuing depression weighed down on me, until I feel like one day I will just break open and shatter into millions of glistening pieces. I'm dull, I'm not special. I'm different, but in a boring way and a waste of space. So I just sit there counting down the minutes, until I can take a nice long walk by myself. I told you today was normal but, oh, how I was wrong about that.

I walked along the narrow path, almost covered by the wrath of autumn leaves but some dirt still peeped through gasping for air. My hands grasped at my locks trying to tear out a piece of gum some girls had spat at it.
'Oh my gosh I'm so sorry.' She says as she sniggers with her mate. Really, are you really? This was the normal amount of sarcasm I would usually get, or I would just get a scowl or a glaring look. But it could have been worse, I guess.

As I tried to wrestle it out my hair I heard a rustling and froze. It was probably a rabbit I thought, as I faced the bushes where I had heard the sound.
'What an over active imagination you have.' I remember my mum muttering.
'Yes we should check her out' murmured my dad.
'John!' She squawked. But she looked concerned as I sat there shivering and crying in the corner of my bedroom, after having a particularly bad nightmare. It's not my fault I'm haunted by nightmares, my parents think it's to do with me staying up and watching horror movies, but I don't think so. I think that I just have a different perspective on the world to others, I see the bad things and I see the pain no one else sees, it's like I'm surrounded by darkness. I'm like a buried grave with one hand poking up for life and freedom, but it's out of reach.

I was now outside the graveyard, just round the bushes at the back. It was run-down and abandoned. The place was was old-fashioned in the ugly creepy way, with disfigured statues and broad gates with spikes, and other decoration when entering. But now instead the gate was broken and falling apart like a soldier once in glory, but now cowering and afraid.

Smothered in vines, that tried to suffocate every last breath out of the place, the yard was harboured by trees minimising any light. There was a tiny church with crumbling rock and gaping holes, and a large stone hexagon in the middle adjoining a low, rusty-grey, iron grave fence, which reached my hip. I liked to read in there, write and listen to music for around an hour. It was quiet, isolated and the old graves didn't effect me, instead I felt safe away from the hectic life at home. My parents had been divorced for three months now but everything's still crazy, everything's different now. There's shouting, anger, violence and I feel more alone there then I did now. It's like I didn't know them anymore, they're so caught up in there own troubles that they forgot about me, they're only child. I don't think they care that I'm here now, they probably don't realise I'm not in my room. My life's changed for the worst, and nothing made it better- except him.

Out of know where I hear a thud and immediately I look around. Behind me from the church was where I heard the noise and it seemed to echo across the empty walls, and damp wooden floor of the church.
'Who's there?' I croaked my heart was pounding a million miles per hour.
'I said who's there?' I said standing up by voice was louder suddenly-less shaky, and I started striding towards the door. If this was some practical joke by some girl in my class they I wouldn't be able to forgive her. But there was something eerie about how they just stood in the building, waiting quietly for me to catch them. They couldn't escape, they were trapped with only one door in or out. So I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it creakily, not prepared to find out what was or who inside...