DARK SEDUCTION (BOOK 1) (Slowly Editing)

PROLOGUE✔

Dedicated to @Pixelofpuzzles thank you so much for being an amazing reader, I was having a terrible day, but you made my day. And do check out her work(Queen Victoria).

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Prologue

"Granny, can you please tell me a story?" My five-year-old self asked Granny, turning up innocent eyes on her; innocent eyes that wouldn't remain so for long. "Go to sleep, little one. You have school tomorrow," came her soft answer as she stroked my silky brown hair. The soft scent of jasmine and spices I couldn't quite place wafted in the air, comforting me as it always did. Granny and I lived in a cute, quaint cottage painted white in Scotland, Skara Brae. We had goats for milk and chickens which laid the eggs, and Granny had a garden where she planted all sorts of things. So, we had almost everything we needed, except the few essentials which we got from the store a few streets away; you had to drive down there anyway. "I'm not sleepy, Granny," I said, pouting and kicking off my blanket, tears pouring from my eyes. I usually got anything I wanted by throwing a mini tantrum. I could hardly suppress my smile when she caved. "OK, just one more hour, and you're going to bed. OK, young lady?" she asked, attempting to sound stern, but I knew better; she just loved me too much to say no.

"Yes, Grandma." She got up and moved around in the kitchen for some minutes later, she returned a few moments later, handing me a handful of cookies and a glass of deliciously warmed milk while grabbing a book from my shelf. "Little Leila, I would tell you a story." Granny hated to call me by my full name, Delilah, probably because of the role she played in the Bible. She instead preferred the shortened form of my name to Leila, and it just stuck. Moreover, if I was being honest, I preferred it. "Our story today would be about Little Red and the monster." "Once upon a time, there lived a little girl known as Little Red Riding Hood. That wasn't her name originally, but her love for a red hood made for her by her grandma earned her that name. "She was so in love with this hood that she wore it everywhere and every day." My five-year-old self cut in again at the middle of the story, "But Granny, doesn't her hoodie ever get dirty, considering she wears it every day?" "Granny sighed again, 'Well, let me tell you a secret, sweetheart,'" she said in a low tone. I leaned in to listen to her conspiratorial whispers. My face was solemn. "Well, you see, my dear, long ago, magic existed."

"So, it was a magic red coat?" I squealed, pleased with myself at my discovery, especially when she turned her mega-watt smile at me as if I was the moon. "Yes, dearest," she answered, brushing my hair with her finger. "Okay, sweetie, let me finish up, so you can get that sleep, okay?"
"Yes, Granny."
"Now where was I?" The five-year-old me giggled, chastising her playfully. "Silly Granny, you tend to forget a lot. You stopped where she wore her little hoodie every day." "Okay, thanks, sweetie, you always humor me; that's why you're the best." I giggled happily at the praise. One day, something bad happened. Granny had fallen ill, and her mother said to her, "Little Red, take this basket of goodies to your grandma's cottage, but don't talk to strangers on the way!" Promising not to, Little Red Riding Hood skipped off. On her way, she met a monster who asked, "Where are you going, little girl?" "To my grandma's," she answered, completely forgetting her promise to her mother. The monster convinced Little Red Riding Hood to pick up some flowers for her grandma, convincing her that grandma would absolutely love it, while naive little Red thought it was a nice idea and did as told. The monster then ran ahead of her to her grandmother's cottage much before Little Red Riding Hood and knocked on the door. When Grandma opened the door, he locked her up in the cupboard. The monster then wore Grandma's clothes and lay on her bed, waiting for Little Red Riding Hood.

When Little Red Riding Hood reached the cottage, she entered and went to Grandma's bedside. Grandma looked a lot different from how she remembered. Deciding it must be because of the illness, she didn't bolt. Instead, shock loosened her tongue; she knew it was rude, but she couldn't help it. "My! What big eyes you have, Grandma!" she said in surprise. "All the better to see you with, my dear!" replied the monster. "My! What big ears you have, Grandma!" said Little Red Riding Hood. "All the better to hear you with, my dear!" said the monster. "What big teeth you have, Grandma!" said Little Red Riding Hood. "All the better to eat you with!" growled the monster, pouncing on her. Little Red Riding Hood screamed, and luckily, the woodcutters in the forest heard the screams of little Red and came running to the cottage. They beat the monster and rescued Grandma from the cupboard. Grandma hugged Little Red Riding Hood with joy. The monster then ran away never to be seen again. Little Red Riding Hood had learned her lesson and never spoke to strangers ever again.

"Wow! Granny, that was a nice story, but I have a question? How are monsters created?" "Sweetcheeks, monsters aren't real; they only exist in fairy tales. Now go to sleep." And I closed my eyes, the dream catcher that hung from my bed swung lazily around as I watched it almost hypnotized, my pink room and bedding an epitome of a fairy princess room as I clung closer to my soft teddy bear, Tara, falling into a dreamless slumber such I didn't notice Granny leave my room with my empty milk glass, or when she quietly turned down the light because I hated being alone in the dark, and my door was left open a crack because some days I usually had the scariest dreams.

Flashback ends
As I grew up, I realized that the monsters in Granny's tales do exist; you don't have to be hideous to be a monster. Monsters are created the moment you are pushed to the extent that the sane part of you snaps, and all feelings of empathy and humanity are gone. To put it blatantly, I would say most humans are now monsters, and I'm afraid I am one of them. This person I am now, and the life I am living will surely lead me to hell, but guess what? I would rather burn than be a goody-two-shoes ever again. Never again will I get hurt.

Who else misses being little? Don't forget to use the little star button and the comment session. I would absolutely love to hear from you."