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Prologue  by JulietteHart

Normlive School Plague

A New Black Plague Strikes! One Survivor Out of 117!

On the annual 5th Grade field trip for Normlive’s only elementary school, a tragedy occurred. Within seconds, the once happy day for the students quickly evolved into a horror movie. Out of nowhere, the teachers and students started to show signs of mysterious plague. Autopsy reports show that the victims’ insides were literally forced out of their bodies and found their way out through the holes of the mouths, ears, and noses. Before that, their eyes were gorged out using the victims’ own fingers and the same nails were ripped out using their own hands. Gashes and boils surround the deceases bodies in a shocking manner. The only survivor is a young, 11-year old girl who witnessed the entire thing. Police are still interrogating her in suspicion that it may have been a biological attack while doctors are looking at her in hopes of a finding a clue to a possible pandemic. However, it is also suspected that the child may have something to do with the murders. The girl, identity unknown, was reported by an anonymous source to “be in perfect health and showed absolutely no emotion” at the death of her peers. The cause of the deaths is still unknown.

**** trash!” Edward Roux howled venomously. “**** reporters think they know **** everything. It’s just **** trash!”

Enraged, he hurled the newspaper into the rubbish bin, ignoring the stares of the frightened nurses. As if sensing their gaping eyes, he spun around, daring any of them to speak. The hospital workers shivered. It was clear that Edward Roux was not going to calm down anytime soon. Asking him to do so would be a death wish. Taking the safer route, they scurried off to different directions, both frightened and grateful that they had a reason not to enter the room. Edward inhaled and turned, a bit more calm, to focus on the tiny girl lying in the corner. Her flaxen hair was lying lifelessly on her shoulders and her eyes were blank. Her skin lacked any natural colorings of a child, while her lithe fingers concentrated on folding the colored paper in her hands. She didn’t seem affected by the man’s agitated exterior and she was used to such language. 

“Is papa going to be alright?” She asked innocently, holding up her finished crane. The little girl was very good at making paper cranes, and her papa seemed to really like them, too. He said her mother was really good at it, and her papa loved it when she was like her mother.

Edward’s gazed landed on the little crane his daughter held in her hand. For a second he was furious. He was furious that she could be making cranes when all those kids just died. He was furious that the reporters thought she may have been responsible. He was furious that she could be so calm when his wife was also lying on a hospital bed, dying, as she was giving birth to such a-

“Am I going to die, papa?”

And then Edward Roux felt ashamed. As he looked at his daughter once more, he could see that she was trembling. Her eyes weren’t blank but were darkened with emotion: fear, apprehension, and a trace of guilt. Guilt that he wanted so badly to believe was survivor’s guilt and not a murderer’s. Yes, he needed to believe it. Because that would mean his daughter was human.

He could love her if she was human.

“No,” He told her, rubbing her back comfortingly. Truthfully he didn’t know, but he didn’t want to frighten his daughter. “The doctors didn’t find any symptoms in you.” Yet. That was the unspoken word.

“Then, did I do it?” The child asked meekly. Tears threatening to fall as her father stared helplessly. He tried to form the words in his mouth. Let ‘no’ or ‘of course not’ slip out. But they didn’t. Because he knew. He knew the truth. That’s why a part of him, a part that he wished never existed, wanted her to have the symptoms.   

“The doctors said that it might be a pandemic.” Her father explained.

“Might be…they don’t know.” She clarified solemnly. Her father remained speechless; the situation was far too gone to be salvaged. Slowly, he watched as she opened her mouth to speak.

“What if I-”

            “Mr. Roux?” An elderly voice interrupted. Edward immediately turned to see the hospital’s doctor aging face at the doorway. This doctor was a kind man, and treated Edward’s daughter without the fear the nurses did.

            “It has been a whole 24 hours since your daughter’s stay here and not one symptom has appeared. It’s safe to say that she doesn’t have the disease.”

            A sigh of relief escaped Edward’s breath but he noticed his little girl didn’t do the same. Instead she turned away, and asked, “Can I leave now?”

            The doctor offered her a strain smile. “As easy as that sounds, we still can’t explain what happen to the other victims. We’d like for you to stay around for another day and take a blood test.”

Edward growled. “Listen here-”

“Just a blood test?” She intervened. She didn’t want any more yelling. The screams…were far too much already.

The doctor nodded. “And we need you to stay one more night. If nothing comes up then you’ll be free to leave by tomorrow morning.”

The small child sat soberly, ignoring any of her father’s possible input. Finally, she nodded.

“Fine,” she replied, unrolling her sleeve. “I have nothing to hide.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her seriousness. It was rare to see 11-year-olds with such composure, but he supposed that the incident did do a lot of maturing for her…He looked at her father for further approval, who could only nod at this point. Truthfully, for any other patient he would have taken the blood test already, but there something about little Miss Roux that he couldn’t put his finger on. It was as if he knew some form of calamity would insure if he did so.

Taking out a needle and some rubbing alcohol, he eased the thin metal into her veins. The thick liquid flowed into the serum, filling it up with crimson life. When he was done, he reached into his pocket to get a band-aid but was stopped.

“It’s fine,” She remarked indifferently. “I heal really fast.”

The two men watched as the petite blonde laid to her side to rest. It was her obvious way of saying ‘I’m done for today. Leave.’

They had no choice but to comply


            Linda Gordon was a woman in her mid-forties who recently got a divorce. Her husband had left her for a younger woman and her beauty had decayed. Her eyes had sunken in, wrinkles overwhelmed her skin and her hair were steadily turning grey. The only thing she had left was the custody of her children.

            And now they were gone, too.

            Linda always knew something was off about Edward Roux’s child. The man had lost his wife in childbirth, and like many single parents, choose to focus solely on the well-being of his daughter. The tiny little girl had always kept to herself, far away from other people. She had friends, of course, in fact Linda’s daughter used to be one of them. However, recently they drifted apart. When she had asked her daughter what was the problem, the carbon copy had simply said.

            “She’s a witch. She can make curses, too.”

            At first, Linda thought her daughter was just being spiteful. She had quickly reprimanded her to not call others names. The girl had responded in a huff and bustled off to her room.

            Now, Linda regretted even teaching her daughter such a thing.

            Her daughter was right. The girl was witch, she thought to herself. If she didn’t do something about her, the whole town will erupt in flames! Grabbing a small handgun she bought for protection, Linda would never imagine that she would use it for this purpose. She put on a nurse’s uniform and went to the hospital. She, at one point, had been a nurse at the Normlive’s Hospital, but quit after her marriage. It never occurred to her that she could always go back. Perhaps, when the deed is done, she should try working again. 

Scampering off to the hospital, the former mother went straight to business. In a high and hasty voice, she asked where the Roux’s girl was. The nurse raised an eyebrow, suspicious. So far no nurse had wanted to see the girl, frightened at the prospect of getting the disease or being ‘cursed’. However, the nurse was sure she saw the woman before and it was time for her to get the results…


            “She’s in Room 106. Make sure to get the results to Dr. Palsey before eight.”

             The desperate woman nodded excitingly. She was so close! She gripped her hospital bag a little tighter. In it held her weapon, the tool she would use to kill the little monster that brought this plague onto her town. Giggling to herself, Linda knew she was going to be a hero! No one would know it, of course, because they wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t understand that this was necessary. She had to kill it. 

            As her feet made its way to their final destination, she failed to hear the footsteps behind her. This was a sensible mistake, after all. The footsteps resemble those of a sly cat, crouching and analyzing its prey. If she had, perhaps, she may have notice the halls getting darker or the people disappearing. She may have even thought to listen to the little voice in her head that said ‘leave’ and ‘danger’ when she finally reached Room 106.

            The Roux girl was sleeping, thankfully. She didn’t need the little witch to start screaming and attracting attention. Her hand rapidly reached into her bag, seizing the pistol. When Linda was ready to shoot, she was swiftly interrupted.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms. Gordon.”

            Whirling around to aim at the voice, she was flabbergasted to see a beautiful young boy. Why, he couldn’t have been more than eight years old! The cherubic child’s eyes lashed upon her own with the gravity of an adult. The second his angelic eyes laid upon her own, she felt terrified, and ashamed at what she was about to do.

             Had they continued staring, Linda may have left. She may have gone home and went on with her life of utter solitude. But then, it groaned.

            Linda shakily cast her eyes on the demonic child in the hospital bed. No, she had to do this! That boy was just one of her tricks! It was a sign from the devil to lead her astray!

            The boy frowned, and inwardly sighed. It was too late now. He had been hoping to dissuade her, but mothers were always so hard. He was grateful that his own died before he could suffer through such human atrocities.

            His hand rose when the woman rested her fingers on the trigger. Had she been a second sooner, she may have succeeded in killing it. But a smooth hand penetrated her ribs before her finger could move. The bones cracked in a revolting sound. The golden hand traveled upwards into her heart and crushed it in his nails. When he was done, the woman could barely mutter a ‘dear god’ before collapsing to the floor, cold and dead.

            The cherubic boy released its hand from the lifeless body, dripping with the blood of a dead woman. Looking over to the living girl, his face erupted into a small smile. He leaned over and, careful not to drop any blood, bestowed her cheek with a little kiss.

            “You owe me so have mine’s first, okay?” He instructed in whispers. With his clean hand, he wiped away the sweat dripping from her forehead. The little girl began to stir and her savior retracted.

            “Goodbye,” he said with reluctance, “My Serenity Roux.”

            Had the boy remembered being human, he would’ve tried to spare Serenity the sight of seeing Linda Gordon, bleeding all over the hospital’s floor. However, he was too enraptured with seeing her, that he forgotten that even if his wasn’t, her humanity was still alive and intact.

            So when Serenity awoke that late night, the smell of blood awakened her. She moved forward to see the dead woman’s eyes falling on her own and she knew what they were saying:


            Serenity let out a bloodcurdling scream.




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  'Prologue' statistics: (click to read)
Date created: Oct. 25, 2009
Date published: Oct. 25, 2009
Comments: 0
Tags: action, horror, language, social-commentary
Word Count: 3482
Times Read: 365
Story Length: 1