"It is better to lose your pride to the one you love than to lose the one you love to your pride." ~ unknown
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Year 1984
John pulled the Impala to a slow stop near an eerily quiet house, shutting the engine off as he leaned back into the leather seats, eyes squinted trying to spot something, anything unusual.
The house was a picture perfect-like home. The fence was on off-white, freshly cut grass, the paint a deep green, and a shiny mailbox with "Tinsley" boldly printed on its left side.
Overall the two-story residence was anything but suspicious, but John couldn't shake that gut feeling that something was happening tonight, something that could possibly be linked with his wife's unnatural death.
Rubbing his hands across his stubby chin he decided to try and catch a few moments of shut-eye, he leaned further back into the seat, tilted his head and closed his eyes for what seemed like minutes before snapping them open to the sound of incoherent screaming coming from the house.
John rushed to grab the duffel bag next to him as he swiftly made it to the front door, wasting no time kicking it in. Scanning his surroundings he bounded up the stairs following the terrified screams. The time came to an agonizing slow as John pushed through the door arriving just in time to see the woman who was previously screaming trapped on the ceiling, blood dripping as she was set on fire. John swung his weapon a few seconds too late as the monster with yellow eyes smirked and disappeared, taking the life of his latest victim with him. Time had seemed to return back to speed as the low ringing in Johns' ears resided just enough for him to reach into the crib and save the infant from the burning debris falling from its mother. John got out of there as fast as he had gotten in with the infant securely wrapped in his arms.
He reached the car and chucked his bag through the open window then turned to check on the crying baby in his arms. Peeking through the blankets was a baby girl who quickly calmed upon seeing his face, John noticed a small print in the corner of the blanket, "Kyra H. Tinsley", it read.
Not seeing much of a choice, John loaded the infamous Impala and headed back to his boys with baby Kyra held tightly in one arm and the other gripping the steering wheel, cursing the failed hunt.
