The Craving

Chapter One- Five Years Ago

The ambiance of her home has always remained the same down to the cinnamon incense her mother burned every afternoon when she would come off of the bus from school. Sunlight would supply its gentle kisses upon the hardwood floors that held memories of her childhood deep within it's dark oak origin. Bookshelves filled with a mix of classics such as Moby Dick and Frankenstein alongside more modern tales like Twilight and It outlined the entire room. Frames of the family grouped together in tight squares and ovals were concealed behind thin panes of glass that showed various times in the earlier years of the kinship. Each photo had shown the all-American family that was complete with a child of each gender and a set of loving parents that looked at each other with a fairytale type of love. The decor of the entire home had been traditional with the colors being that of Earthy tones such as granola and sugar cookie tan and russet brown. Not a speck of dust was seen upon any item nor clutter, as everything sat in perfect accordance to belong in a home decor magazine. Every single detail of this house was proudly kept in sync for the last ten years with an empty sink and perfectly aligned shoes set congruent beside the other half of their pair. Not even one spiderweb could be found in even the darkest corners of the home. The neighborhood outside held the same feeling as this house; almost as if it was perfectly encased in a snowglobe. However, this perfect home in this darling town was a world away and yet the world itself to so many who lived there. There was no need for block parties or tall fences as all neighbors were friendly and considerate of each other. Not a single baleful word had been spoken or a subtle glower from afar had been given.

At least this had been the case up until five years ago, when that idyllic home contoured by lilac colored magnolias became the location of one of the most vicious crimes to ever be present in all of Louisiana. That perfectly picturesque family would be torn apart by the greedy hands of death that would leave only a destroyed daughter and sister and an angry husband and father. Those divine smiles on the photographs had now been smeared with the blood of those attacked while the once immaculate floor was responsible to holding the bodies of the victims of the strike. There hadn't been a warning or even a foul word exchanged to the Delatrae family, and yet they would be forced to bury a mother of only four decades and a son who had just gotten his driver's license. The town that used to hold together so tightly had now begun to fray as nobody was able to feel safe by keeping their screen doors unlocked or their children unattended. Neighbors used to pass with smiles and now those optimistic curves upon their mouths had turned to hard lines and were now accompanied by glares. Unannounced visits from friends and vicinal houses came to a startling halt as locks on doors were changed and security systems had been installed in almost every home. You would no longer see a town of trust and friendship, it was now one of overgrown weeds and an unsolved mystery surrounding the life of what remained of the Delatrae family.

The youngest member of the family, Thora Delatrae, had been affected the most by the horrible tragedy that struck her family. She had simply descended off the steps of her number 26 bus and moved to the direction of her front door as she had done as routine every day, unaware that her life would change forever in just a few moments. A personalized key with a pink tab and the letter "T" drawn on with nail polish was set into the keyhole and the door came open. Her mother's records were not playing as they usually would have and there was no scent of dinner present in the air. Instead, it was scarcely quiet-deathly even, as she began to squeal out the names of her mother and father while making her way through the home. It wasn't until she had closed the door behind her and ventured into the kitchen that she had noticed the nature of her childhood home to have been ransacked. The photographs and paintings that her mother and father hung proudly within their home had been turned and even parted from their nails while sections of glass were sprawled upon the ground from having been broken. This gave away Thora's location as she had continued throughout the home and calling the names of her family, her final one having been the name of her brother, Collins. Her tone grew more and more shaky as her naive thirteen-year-old mind had thought anything aside from the truth.