Demonic (Book 1)

Chapter One

One – Lisa

Sometimes when I watched movies where someone dies, I didn’t understand why so many people cried. I did not understand why they were so sad. Only recently I experienced a death. And, like a puzzle, the pieces fell gently into place. I understood why you’re meant to be sad when someone close to you dies. I understood this now, because Daddy was killed.

                At first I thought that Mummy was just joking, but then I realised that she never does. Losing someone, whom you’ve known for five years, was devastating and…destructive. My heart burst like a pin colliding with a balloon. Mummy said he died from a car accident. My first emotion was anger. Why did he leave Mummy and me? Why would he? How could he? I started to cry, not wanting comfort. I ran upstairs and into my new room. It seemed like hours before I stopped crying. I lifted my head and turned it to my left; resting it on my soft, pink pillow. On my bed-side-table was the necklace that I had found in the chest.

                Sniffing, I sat up and reached for it. Suddenly, like a flash of cracking lighting, a man with cold, black eyes, eyes with no irises or whites, swiftly appeared and disappeared before my eyes. A high pitched scream escaped from my throat. As fast as a mouse scurrying across the floor I jumped to the other side of my bed. Seconds later, I heard Mummy running up the stairs and to my room. She popped into the doorway, face filled with fear, which soon calmed as she saw that I wasn’t hurt. She walked over to the side of my bed and sat down.

                “What happened?” she asked softly, her voice still slightly wobbly with grief.

 I swallowed my fear and said, quietly, “I saw the man from the forest.”

                Mummy frowned. “What man?”

                I quickly yanked my head up to look at her. “When we first moved in,” I said glancing at the necklace. “He was staring at us.”

                She cocked her head slightly to one side. “Hmm… what did he look like?”

                “He wore a long black coat with a black hat, black pants, shoes, black everything! Even his eyes! His skin was pale as ghost, though!”

                Mummy smiled, “There’s no such thing as people with black eyes, Lisa.” She put her arm around me as I was describing the man. “You don’t have to be scared.”

I wiped my dripping nose. “But I saw him! I did!” I insisted.

                Mummy stood up, “Lisa,” she said sternly, “there’s no such thing as black eyed people!”

                “There is!” I screamed. “I know because I saw him!” I hesitated to say the next statement. I said quietly, “Daddy would believe me…”

                “Shut up!” Mummy shouted, at the top of her lungs. “Don’t believe in such nonsense! And don’t you dare say Daddy would believe you, because he wouldn’t! You hear me?” She slapped me on the face and I fell on the bed crying loudly and bitterly.

                All of a sudden the doorbell rang. Mummy straightened her jacket and said, “Don’t talk about these black eyed people to our guests. Understand?”

                I kept my silence.

                “Understand?!”

                “Yes!” I yelled.

                Then, Mummy left me crying, and went downstairs to answer the door.