Darkness Be My Hero

Curiosity can be a bitch.

It was a gloomy night; the sky was a dismal grey with dark, mysterious clouds yielding the moon. Clary was shivering as the slight breeze grazed her skin.

She had quickly raced home to meet her mother, as she had promised that morning, before she had left. She desperately wanted to explore the mansion’s walls tonight, and then prove to Olivia that there was nothing there.

Clary ate her supper with her mother, who questioned her about her day; a daily routine Clary was used to now. She cleared her plates then went to her room to put on her coat and black combat boots and plugged in her iPod, blasting “My Chemical Romance” into her ears.

“I’ll be back soon!” she shouted to her mother, as she walked out of the cottage, locking the door behind her.

Now, as she walked up the street, she noticed it was eerily empty. Normally, back at her old home, old couples would be walking their dogs, enter twining their hands, showing their dear love for each other. Children would be packing up their toys and heading inside to go bed as the sun set over the hills.

But Grave Willow wasn’t like her old home, this she had already realized. The thought made her homesick. There were never any neighbours outside, or any small children playing, just emptiness. Sometimes she would see some people walking along the street with their shopping, but even then there wasn’t much of a smile on their face. The sun never seemed to shine; it just stayed hidden behind the clouds, never wanting to be found. She had only been here for a couple of weeks and she already wanted to pack up her things and leave.

Clary shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts and kept on walking up the hill towards the start of the forest.

As Clary advanced up the hill through the dense forest, she couldn’t help but feel frightened. Every step she took, the breeze seemed to be turning colder and harsh and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. She pulled out her iPod and turned off the music. Without it blasting in her ears, every sound around her could be heard; the swishing and swaying of the trees leaves above her, the howling of wolves, and the crunch of the dead withered plantation below her. Clary kept walking, cautious of any sound that appeared. Her legs had already started to hurt and her stomach had grown a massive stitch. Clary wondered how the inhabitants got up this hill each day. Exhausted, Clary located a large log and sat on it, relieving her legs.

She looked at her surroundings, it was getting darker and the wind was getting wilder.  The dead leaves had been replaced by a soft green moss that padded her feet. Clary bent down to look at a patch of wild daisies that were sprouting from the bottom of the log.

She was lost in a train of thought when she heard a crunching sound in the direction she had just come.

Had she been caught?  

Clueless what to do, Clary tumbled behind the log, knocking her leg painfully. She adjusted herself, so her weight wasn’t pressing on her leg, and tried to blend in with the darkness and shadows.

The sound was closer now and in the moonlight she could make out a tall figure getting closer. The figure seemed to fly up the hill soundless, like a feather blowing in the breeze. Clary ducked her head as the figure passed the log, oblivious to her presence.  Clary’s heart was thumping.

Should she follow him? She thought to herself. This may be her only chance to see what was hiding in the dark depths of the mansion ahead of her.

A shock of excitement spilled through her, giving her the courage to continue. She brushed herself off and followed the figure in the distance.

As the dark hooded figure advanced through the weeping forest, towards the vast mansion, she followed in eagerness. The baying of distant wolves and the crunching of the dead forest floor was that could be heard. A crack of thunder boomed across the land and droplets of rain began to fall dampening her hair, like the clouds were crying.

As the dark figure approached the large gates they started to open, grating against the rusty hinges making an eerie sound, like ghosts shrieking into the night. Clary followed trying to be silent, as the dark figure continued up to the mysterious dark mansion, that towered over them.

The figure continued up the gravel path to the mansion door, lined with dilapidated fractured statues. Goose bumps started to arise as she continued. Behind her the gates crashed closed, alarming her as a small shriek slipped out of her mouth. The figure turned and Clary froze, mouth agape. The dark figures shadowed face showed no expression to whether she had been discovered.

The figure turned again and started up the decaying steps. The dark figures arm lifted and its loose sleeve slipped down, its pale wrist, revealing.  Clary’ s breath caught in her throat in astonishment, as the door creaked open and the figure slipped through, door slamming behind. She precipitately followed, up the steps, which started to crumble under her feet after obvious centuries of weathering.

The door opened in front of her. Terror rose in her throat as she put one wet boot in front of the other; she stepped inside the mysterious mansion.

Inside she was confronted with a grand wooden staircase that winded up a few stories. Large windows stood on opposite sides of the room, covered with thick black satin curtains. A cold wind brushed her skin and the door slammed behind her, causing her to fall backward in shock, as the sound of a woman’s crazed laughter filled her head.

Clary screamed. The world around her seemed to turn into a blur and all she could think of doing, was running. She was terrified.

I will never make it out alive, they will kidnap me and I will never see the crack of dawn again

She got up and ran. She didn’t know where she was going, but all she could think was to hide. Looking back, she should have run back, out through the front door like any person with a half a brain would do. But instead she found herself opening a small door under the stairs and collapsing on a pile of mops and rags. The room was dark and smelt of dirty socks. She rested heavily against what seemed like a wooden frame of shelving and caught her breath. Clary quietly felt around, trying to locate a light source. Her hand located a string, so Clary pulled it. A large clatter sounded to her ears and a heavy object hit her head, knocking Clary unconscious.