The Haunted Mansion

Chapter 1: Scorched Earth

AUTHOR'S NOTE

hey guys!!!! I really didn't think anyone would read this story, but I'm so glad you guys are here. Feel free to ask questions, leave suggestions, or just write bs in the comments. For now, I am going to put the translations in the story here in the author's notes at least until I figure out a better means of putting them into the story. I will be updating biweekly (somewhat), but I plan to write lengthy chapters to keep y'all fed. Thanks again for reading!

LATIN TO ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS

non pugnare quod non potes occidere! == don't fight what you cannot kill

veni ad nos ne timeas == come to us, and do not fear

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~~Zyvea POV~~

**11 years later**

    I sat in the middle of the backyard meadow, gripping blades of grass and fighting against the wind at my back. Dark shadows twisted and sung an evil song on the edge of the forest. No words nor exchange, only the howl of winds floating past my ears -- that and the murmurs. The ones that have robbed me of every waking night's rest since that pathetic day. The hushed screaming rattling the inside of my brain as I try desperately to escape. Clutching at pieces of grass had been my futile attempt to fight to find reality again. Falling back to consciousness had become an art for me at this point. I'd been doing it for years. Trying to focus my eyes away from a surely impending doom, I try to start counting the number of grass pieces in my hand to be brought back to reality. 

    "ONE!"  I screamed trying to focus on things I know are real. 'I no longer live in the same as this house' and 'this is not real' are normally my internal mantra most of the time. "TWO...THREE...FOUR..." I continue on watching as the shadows of the forest start to bleed past the threshold of the yard. The winds cause my to slide forward at the same time as the the darkness started to grasp at my ankles. It's coldness climbing up my body while kicked and screamed at the sky. My chest heaves as I come close to the realization that I might not wake. up in time. The notion that I just might succumb to this disturbing, beast that has chased away any notion of peace of mind for more than a decade. 

    This is bad, worse than bad. It has never taken this long for me to come back to reality. The icy chill of the darkness begins groping past my shins, thighs, hips.  Up and up to the point that my chest is starting to feel its cold burning near my heart. I couldn't kick anymore, the tendrils of shadow etched itself across my skin and contracted around me restricting me from running away. The screaming of the voices coming to a fever pitch, "non pugnare quod non potes occidere!" I opened my mouth to wail in anguish, "I have no idea what that means you weirdo, please just stop tormenting me. I swear to never tell a soul!" I yelped the same plea I'd made known for pretty much half my life. 

   The forces had made up their mind against my favor as the wickedness begin to reach down my throat in what felt like taking my life. My body was on its last stand to stay away from this horrible thing, arching my back and neck away from the blackness. Touching my lip---

  I jolt upright in my twin-sized bed next to my roommate. "Dude, you okay?" My roommate, Lemric, looked at me concerned because this was the third time this week that I nearly woke up screaming. No once enjoyed being the roommate from hell, least of all the only black girl in the entire junior class. "Yea, I'm fine it's just around the same time of year the night terrors get worse." I smoothly lied hoping that she'd just drop it like she usually did. Over the past couple semesters, she's tried to get close to me but that's hard to do when something you can't explain haunts your every waking move. I'm sure it would be so refreshing to have someone to be around who could easily understand your problems.