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  • |Thank you  very much for accepting! Shall we try and plot? |

  • ( Oh don't even worry! Your health is way more important. I'm looking forwad to it, but please take your time! ^^ )

  • ( Hey there! I'm so sorry to hear that you've been in the Hospital :( Hope you feel better and are home soon!! Take care, friend!!! ) 

  • February, 1692

    Salem, Massachusetts

    The Cursed Blade & The Montgomery Family

    The blade arrived by horse and carriage early one winter morning. The several inches of snow on the ground made the voyage difficult but well worth it to a man named John Montgomery. He had spent the last several months traveling by ship from England to America. His wife and son had migrated from Europe nearly three years before but John had stayed behind in an effort to locate the sword he had been trying to find for nearly a decade. Some had found his quest ridiculous but Montgomery did not seem to care. This was far more than just a sword to him. The blade was well over three hundred years old and in pristine condition despite being buried for centuries. There were various stories in Europe surrounding the blade but most wrote them off as mere fairy tales and myths. For John the stories were just that. The sword was worth more than a pretty penny and John knew his finding would be more than enough to secure a pleasant future for him and his family.

    Touch it, touch it I say!

    The voice echoed through John’s head once he saw the blade. He thought nothing of the voice at first deciding it was his own ambition and excitement driving his decision to grab it. He knelt down in the dirt and slowly brushed the sword off revealing an assortment of medieval markings down the side. The blade was nothing short of beautiful. He had never seen anything like it. When he touched the blade a second time his body began to shake uncontrollably. Visions upon visions raced through his mind. He saw bright green flames, tangled vines, and heard someone laughing. The voice belonged to a woman. After each vision John found himself in a room surrounded by darkness aside from a pair of bright yellow eyes watching him like a hawk.

    When he finally came to it was too late. The young man had returned home with the blade but with no recollection of his time on the ship or in the carriage. He stood in the barn with the sword in his hand only this time it was coated in blood. He trembled eventually dropping the sword on a pile of hay next to him. His wife was dead, her body sprawled out on the ground and her dress covered in blood. His son was only a few feet away sitting by the door with his head hanging forward and his shirt crimson red.

    Destroy the sword or the carnage will not end here.

    The voice echoed through his head again as he fell to his knees tears streaming down his face. He looked at the lantern beside him then at the bloody sword. “I will not.” With that, he knocked the lantern over causing the hay to catch fire and grabbed the blade. “I will not!” He slit his throat as the flames consumed the barn eventually turning everything including him to ash, everything that is, except the sword.

  • [Hello! I'm so sorry it's been awhile.. I would love to plot, I just don't have any ideas right now... I'm so sorry :( ~ Marcella is a Super Beast (based on tv show Beauty and the Beast) she is also an Sumatran Tiger shifter.. She is a free lance assassin and also monster slayer... However Marc isn't really classified as good, she's a killer, and she loves it...]

  • \\Hmm, honestly he's running a strip club that he's recently opened as well as searching for 8 men that killed him; he's already killed one of them but 7 more are still out and about. 

  • ( I totally understand! But your health is waaaay more important oh haha that's so precious! Thank you for the compliment but please don't be intimidated by me haha As Peg said in the movie, "I'm as harmless as Cherry Pie!"

    Looking forward to your response, but again, there's no rush! ^^ )

  • Witches of East End is wicked. I enjoyed that one too. Though, I didn't get too far into it.

    I'm sure it will. Mine was for reluctance and writer's block every time I wanted to write stuff on my page. Hence, why each of the sections aren't too long. Granted, I do believe there is more fun in the mystery of finding out about a character than learning all about them on the page. 

  • Winter had come to Suburbia once again.

    It was the one time of the year when the bright and garish pastel suburb was transformed into an enchanting paradise of cold weather and soft, tumbling snowflakes drifting down from the nearby mountain top.

    From that ancient Castle on the hill, is where they say the snow comes from. Rumours. Children stories. Tall tales of a man with scissors instead of hands that made it snow every Christmas.  The suburbanites did their best to ignore the unusual weather and simply carry on with their mundane lives. But they were always left to wonder who really lived up there. Though presently, there was not a soul in Suburbia brave enough to venture up the mountain path and discover the truth for themselves.

    For as long as he could remember, every night Edward had gazed down at that pretty little town below. He had once gone down there, many years ago. A kind woman had taken him in, invited him into her home. He had made friends. Had a family.

    And a loved one who he would forever cherish.

    But times were different now. Nearly everyone had forgotten him. Perhaps it was better this way. After all, he was supposed to be dead. And he had to keep up appearences, or face the consequences of making himself known to that town once again.

    Edward knew every house in the town just as well as one of his scissor-bladed hands. He looked upon it often, memories both good and bad assailing his mind as he watched the twinkling street lights in the distance, illuminating in that darkness like far away stars.

    He immediately noticed when moving trucks suddenly appeared one day outside of one of the houses close to the cul-de-sac, at the base of the mountain he called home.

    Standing by a cracked and shattered window, Edward watched curiously at the move that was taking place. It was certainly a welcome change from the town that never really changed, no matter how much time seemed to pass. It had been almost comforting. It made Edward forget just how old he really was. 

      Watching from this distance was less than ideal. He knew he couldn't go back down there. Not unless he wanted to get into trouble again, like he had all those years ago. But there was a tug of desire in his heart to approach this stranger to Suburbia. Perhaps, even before laying eyes on whoever it was who had moved in, he already felt a strange sort of kinship with this mysterious visitor.

    They were both outsiders, after all.

    A day or two passed and Edward finally made a decision, albeit a very risky one. The darkness and silence of his Castle home was beginning to take it's toll on his mind. If he remained here, for even another day, it may consume him entirely. Thus, he decided to do what he had not done in years.

    Venture back down the hill and into Suburbia once more.

    Waiting for the cover of darkness would be best. The skin-tight, black leather suit that was Edwards garb blended in most cleverly with the night-time shadows. He wasn't likely to be seen by many at this time of night. And if he did, he was close enough so that he could slip away into the darkness and journey back to the Castle where he had been made.

    It was a risk. And a risk that came with dire consequences, if he was seen. But it was a risk worth taking. If only to see that town up close again, even just one more time.

    Edward soon found himsef standing on the threshold between his world and theirs. Beside the ancient stone gate that began the long, winding path up the mountain. He saw the baby blue house that the trucks had parked in front of. A light was on in one of the windows. That warm light beckoned him closer, like a moth to the flame.

    His Castle was so cold.

    Soon he found himself standing in the yard, peering inside that window. Mesmerized by something so simple as a warm, living room light. Something that people take for granted. But to him, it was magical and different. Something he sorely missed in his dark Castle.

    His scissor-blades snipped and clicked together at his sides habitually as he looked in interest at the interior of the stranger's new home. Too cautious to approach, but too naive to think that in this moment, he could be seen.

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