Chapter One

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London 1891

Wind whips briskly over the Westwick moors, the bare trees stand out against the dark gray sky. Dark storms clouds roll over high above the marshy ground below, thick weeds cover the hills surrounding Black Thorn Manor. A Château style mansion, built by the renown Marshion Dupré a french architect hired by Phillip Thorn, it was a costly endeavor and in the end, much of the family fortune was spent.  

Since the house was built, much turmoil has surrounded it, many people in the village believed it to be a curse. Many say that the family is evil through and through, rotten to the core. Phillip Thorn was known to cheat people out of the money, he was heartless, and if you had the misfortune of owing him money, he would stop at nothing to get what was due to him. Including throwing you into debtor's prison, and thus casting the family of the ones who owe him money into the streets. Many a young mother's children died due to his callousness.

He died in an "accident" or so that is what his son, Christopher, claimed happened, rumors say that perhaps Christopher had a hand in his father's death. It was well known there was little love between them, in fact, hate was the only emotion they felt towards each other.

Christopher Thorn didn't have a child until late in his life, he was forty-six at the time his wife gave birth to their daughter, Rose Thorn. He had wanted a son and hated his daughter for being born a girl. His wife, Elizabeth, had died in childbirth, thusly, he never received the son he desired.

Elizabeth's death was mourned very briefly by her husband, he drowned his problems in liquor and cheap women, this dwindled the fortune down to a mere pittance. He soon married again, to a woman named Martha four years after his first's wife's death, but she was never blessed with a child, he soon found out she could not bear children. 

As Rose Thorn grew into a young, beautiful woman, rumors swirled around her. People in the village claimed she was the devil's own, that she practiced witchcraft and the small, red crescent moon shaped birthmark on her neck just fed the rumor mill.

She had been treated badly by all in the village since she was a child, stones had been cast at her when she walked through the woods once. Resentment filled her heart, she hated the people for the way she was treated. She vowed they would know the meaning of fear.

And in the end, they did.

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