Status: Working Slowly to be as good as possible
The Gatherer
Prologue: A Sudden Death
Elysa Cary’s death was in no way private. Her broken and twisted body was discovered shortly after it had fallen out of her second story bedroom window. Unfortunately, the person who discovered it was none other than John Hathorne. It was well known to everyone in Salem, Massachusetts that the Hathornes despised the Carys. It had been a family feud dating back as far as anyone could remember. Despite his hatred towards the family, he did what any other person would do and called the authorities.
The screaming from the fall had harshly aroused many others from their sleep and the sirens from the police shocked the rest of the town out of their seemingly normal slumber. Soon, a crowd began to form around the Cary house. As the crowd continued to grow, rumors spread like wildfire.
“It’s a shame, really. She couldn't have been older than eighteen.”
“I am sure it was suicide. Elysa was always so sullen, she had no friends. My daughter said she dropped off the face of the earth after graduation.”
“It was murder. The father was never in his right mind.”
“The Cary’s are indeed strange, I wouldn't put it past them to harm their own children.” These cruel words were uttered out of the thin sharp mouth of Margaret Hathorne, John Hathorne’s wife. “I don’t think she has left the house since she graduated high school. My daughter said she never spoke to anyone. I am not surprised this happened at all.” None of the locals paid any mind to what Mrs. Hathorne said. They assumed she was being unnecessarily ridiculous and hormonal because she was eight and half months pregnant with her third child. However, the reporters who had begun to show up were very interested in what Margaret had to say and began to bombard her with questions about Elysa and her family.
“How long have you known the Carys, Mrs. Hathorne?”
“Should the people of Salem be worried that the father could come after them?”
“Is it true that the Carys have been known to come from a long line of killers?” Each question became more and more radical. No one wanted the truth about the Carys, only the horrid things Margaret Hathorne had concocted. Finally, the reporters asked about the events of that evening.
“I was sleeping peacefully as usual and was harshly awoken by a large crash and the most dreadful scream. My husband hurried outside where he saw the body, mangled in the most horrible way, lying on the ground and…” Mr. John Hathorne cleared his throat, a kind of signal he used to quiet his wife. His countenance was hard and he stood with such authority and strength, everyone became silent, listening to what he had to say.
“I saw the body with my own eyes and was absolutely disgusted. There were no signs of aggression, no bruises that could point to physical abuse. There seemed to be scars covering the arms and legs of the girl, but they were so faded that they could not have been from tonight. However, what had shocked me the most was the fact that Elysa was distinctly pregnant.”
No one spoke. Emotions ran wild. Silent tears fell from mothers, gasps and shortness of breath came to most of the men. Most people were unsure of how to react. Because the cause of death was still unknown to most, the baby’s death could have been a tragic accident. No matter what people thought, the crowd remained silent. Even Mrs. Hathorne held her tongue and kept her hand firmly on her very pregnant stomach.
It was Mr. Hathorne who broke the silence with chilling words. “Maybe it was good that the baby was killed. If the child were to grow up with this sort of shame and even possible guilt, maybe she would end up taking his or her own life as well. Either way, I am sure a death as horrific as this would befall the child as well.” Slowly, as if they were in a daze, members of the crowd began to nod in agreement. Maybe it was the way Hathorne spoke, with such assurance and power like a political leader. Or maybe it was the seemingly genuine sympathy Hathorne had for the unborn child. Either way, after agreeing with Hathorne, the crowd remained quiet so the reporters could finish shooting.
As the sun began to rise and the sky turned from black to red, the crowd began to dwindle. Tears were dried and people began to return to their normal homes and families, preparing themselves for another day. None of them ever wondered what happened at the hospital where Elysa was taken. They were convinced that an autopsy of both the mother and the child had been made and that was the end of it all.
No one ever thought it was only the beginning of something truly strange but spectacular. No one for a second believed me to be alive.
The screaming from the fall had harshly aroused many others from their sleep and the sirens from the police shocked the rest of the town out of their seemingly normal slumber. Soon, a crowd began to form around the Cary house. As the crowd continued to grow, rumors spread like wildfire.
“It’s a shame, really. She couldn't have been older than eighteen.”
“I am sure it was suicide. Elysa was always so sullen, she had no friends. My daughter said she dropped off the face of the earth after graduation.”
“It was murder. The father was never in his right mind.”
“The Cary’s are indeed strange, I wouldn't put it past them to harm their own children.” These cruel words were uttered out of the thin sharp mouth of Margaret Hathorne, John Hathorne’s wife. “I don’t think she has left the house since she graduated high school. My daughter said she never spoke to anyone. I am not surprised this happened at all.” None of the locals paid any mind to what Mrs. Hathorne said. They assumed she was being unnecessarily ridiculous and hormonal because she was eight and half months pregnant with her third child. However, the reporters who had begun to show up were very interested in what Margaret had to say and began to bombard her with questions about Elysa and her family.
“How long have you known the Carys, Mrs. Hathorne?”
“Should the people of Salem be worried that the father could come after them?”
“Is it true that the Carys have been known to come from a long line of killers?” Each question became more and more radical. No one wanted the truth about the Carys, only the horrid things Margaret Hathorne had concocted. Finally, the reporters asked about the events of that evening.
“I was sleeping peacefully as usual and was harshly awoken by a large crash and the most dreadful scream. My husband hurried outside where he saw the body, mangled in the most horrible way, lying on the ground and…” Mr. John Hathorne cleared his throat, a kind of signal he used to quiet his wife. His countenance was hard and he stood with such authority and strength, everyone became silent, listening to what he had to say.
“I saw the body with my own eyes and was absolutely disgusted. There were no signs of aggression, no bruises that could point to physical abuse. There seemed to be scars covering the arms and legs of the girl, but they were so faded that they could not have been from tonight. However, what had shocked me the most was the fact that Elysa was distinctly pregnant.”
No one spoke. Emotions ran wild. Silent tears fell from mothers, gasps and shortness of breath came to most of the men. Most people were unsure of how to react. Because the cause of death was still unknown to most, the baby’s death could have been a tragic accident. No matter what people thought, the crowd remained silent. Even Mrs. Hathorne held her tongue and kept her hand firmly on her very pregnant stomach.
It was Mr. Hathorne who broke the silence with chilling words. “Maybe it was good that the baby was killed. If the child were to grow up with this sort of shame and even possible guilt, maybe she would end up taking his or her own life as well. Either way, I am sure a death as horrific as this would befall the child as well.” Slowly, as if they were in a daze, members of the crowd began to nod in agreement. Maybe it was the way Hathorne spoke, with such assurance and power like a political leader. Or maybe it was the seemingly genuine sympathy Hathorne had for the unborn child. Either way, after agreeing with Hathorne, the crowd remained quiet so the reporters could finish shooting.
As the sun began to rise and the sky turned from black to red, the crowd began to dwindle. Tears were dried and people began to return to their normal homes and families, preparing themselves for another day. None of them ever wondered what happened at the hospital where Elysa was taken. They were convinced that an autopsy of both the mother and the child had been made and that was the end of it all.
No one ever thought it was only the beginning of something truly strange but spectacular. No one for a second believed me to be alive.
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Just the beginning of what I hope to be my first real novel...this will also be on tumblr. moiras0ngs.tumblr.com :) please follow for pictures and updates!!!