The Legacy

Chapter 1

So, this is just kinda a fun story (something I just wrote for laughs). I know, it really sucks, and the plotline is aweful, but I  did enjoy writing it for some time :)

If you like it, great :) If you don't, great :)

Enjoy~

Chapter 1 

The night was very quiet.

Too quiet, as some would say.

Even the crickets, who normally would have picked up their usual pulsing hum by now, had ceased to play.

Quiet enough to cast an eerie chill over the swaying corn stalks and the rustling tree branches that whispered in the wind, the tinkling jingle of a wind chime that hung on the bright blue porch of a house. The house was stout, with a short, classic chimney stacked on top. The open shutters revealed a blinking television with only static coming through the screen. The house seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. It was surrounded by fields and fields of corn, and the only sign of a road was just a matted layer of grass and dirt. The only signs of life in the house, was a man. He stood in the threshold of the door leading onto the porch, and was gazing nervously out into the night, clenching and unclenching his fists uncertainly.

The man had dark brown hair that stuck up in all directions, and light grey eyes that were peering into the night like a hawk. The faint scent of rain hung in the air surrounding him. He shifted from foot to foot nervously, waiting. Stars twinkled above, and the moon hung as a pale silver coin in the night, casting a faded glow over the house and the fields. The light touched the man's tight face.

Slowly, the man turned back into the house, moving his eyes to the space between his living room and kitchen. The sense of dread and fear was clear as day in the two rooms. As the man would have guessed, it stood on the floor, it's arms spread slightly apart from it's body, legs parted.

The creature stood there, waiting as the man had been.

What looked like dirt, leaves, and crummy vines covered the thing's body, writhing and twisting with a pulsing rhythm. The thing was gruesome, with a bald, greenish head that matched the rest of it's body. There were no features on it's twisting face, and the only thing that made it look relatively human was its general shape; four limbs, hands, feet, a head. A rustic dagger was clenched in it's hand. It stood there, almost lazily, and made no move towards the man.

The man's face held no surprise or even a vague reaction. It was blank, wiped of any emotion. He didn't feel any fear to seeing this thing, nor shock. He'd been expecting this. He leaned against the bare counter, his arms folded.

"It's not here." his voice was calm and smooth. The creatures head cocked barely. "You'll just have to keep looking."

No reply, unsurprisingly.

"I'm quite impressed, though, that you found me so quickly. You must have some very good trackers." His eyes narrowed, calculating. "So, how did you do it? Find me, I mean. I thought my location was impossible for you to find." He continued speaking, though he knew he was going to get no response.

"I know who you are, by the way. I won't say your name, for your sake, but just know this, before you kill me." He paused, breathing slowly. "You'll never find it.

Never."

The blade pierced the man's heart.

* * *

Two Years Later

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach? The one you get when you're scared? The one that jerks and tugs at your insides until your eyes are tight and your breath comes out in hard, short little puffs? Dread, maybe? Dread was exactly what I was feeling as I whipped around the corner of the street, my jacket flying out behind me, blinking fat teardrops of rain out of my eyes. My shoes slapped jerkily against the wet pavement, making that squeaking sound like they do when they're wet.