In the beginning, there was life. Also, in the beginning, there was Death. Death has been alive since the dawn of existence, and Death is what defines us all now. In this world, there is a fine line between living and dead, but some creatures choose to live on that line.
I decided to call them Walkers. No, not because of a silly show that my parents were obsessed with when they were raising me, though the archer was very badass. I call them Walkers because they choose to walk among the living when they shouldn't be walking at all. And sorry to disappoint, but they aren't zombies... most of the time.
Walkers can be anything from vampires to demons to gods; yes, the lowercase 'g' is specified. There are many gods out there and yes, they are mad that you don't worship them. But hey, when have we ever needed the help of a lesser African goddess? Yeah, I can't think of a time either.
Anyway, I'm Hope, daughter of Alia and John Grace. Yes, my name is Hope Grace. Spare the jokes; I'm practically destined for greatness due to my name alone. But, somehow my life has not caught up yet. I have had the least exciting life ever. HA! I wish. Since I was 9, I have been living on my own fighting battles that no one knows about.
The first walker I encountered was a ghost named Naomi. She had lived in the house before me and her dad was an abusive alcholic. My mom thought I was lying when I tried to tell her about the little girl I saw that had a purple, swollen face. Who else would believe a mad 7 year old? She didn't understand because Naomi didn't let adults see her, but she was my best friend. Whenever the mean kids at school made fun of me, she would tell me everything was okay and when I went to school the next day, they always seemed... different. I didn't pay close attention though, because I was just happy they left me alone.
On my eighth birthday, one of the mean girls made me a special birthday present: a mud birthday cake. Then she promptly threw it in my face. I cried and ran home because my clothes were absolutely unwearable due to the filth. When I got home, with blurry eyes and stained clothes, I called out for her. My only friend was immediately there. She seemed uncomfortably angry, so I told her I was fine so she would calm down. Later Naomi told me that she had went into the rooms of the bullies and scared them. I thought she was joking, but the day after, I was going to ask the girl if she remembered what had happened to her. She simply said, "The girl with the purple face said that if I talked to you, she would hurt me again." I was mortified as I noticed the familiar purple bruise on her cheek. It was the same as Naomi's. How could the innocent abuse victim be abusing other people? That was when I first realized the three rules of my new life. Don't trust Walkers, don't trust people, and definitely don't trust yourself.
Author's Note: This is just the prologue, so if anyone has any suggestions, don't hesitate to comment. ALL COMMENTS ARE IMPORTANT. Thank you for reading! :D
YOU ARE READING
California Bound
ParanormalHope Grace has had a normal childhood-- wait, no she hasn't. She first saw a ghost when she was seven years old and her life has never been the same again.
