Something a bit different now....but still relevant. I give you, Rochelle Romanoff-Felton's origin story.
Warning! Involves death and mention of blood.
Saturday 19th June, 5:45pm, The Felton House
"And God bless Mommy, and Daddy, and 'Bastian, and Lisa, and Georgia, and Manny and Mrs Thomas and..."
"And in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit amen!" Mr Felton cut in, willing for the dinner to start.
"But I didn't finish..." Paul started, his lower lip trembling. Rochelle leaned over and patted his shoulder kindly.
"I'm sure God gets the picture Paulie."
Paul smiled and dug into his meal happily. The table fell silent as the family started eating, the one time the house felt truly quiet was mealtimes, if you didn't count smacking lips and general eating sounds.
Rochelle started to eat herself but couldn't help but notice the clock sounded extra noisy tonight. The gentle ticking was usually a comfort but tonight it sounded ominous, almost like a warning. Mr Felton was the first to notice.
"That damned clock...since when did it tick so loudly?"
"Now now darling, no need to get upset. Probably just needs new batteries. I'll get Rogerstone to look at it." Mrs Felton assured, trying to calm him down.
This was often Mr Felton's response to things he didn't like. Certain musical genres, fashion trends, bad attitudes, the list went on. The ticking didn't calm or cease. It seemed to get faster.
"That clock's been in this house for generations, how dare it break on my watch!" He boomed, the atmosphere getting rather tense. Lisa's ears pricked up, her eyes widening.
"It's not the clock....the sounds too far away." She turned her head and looked at the dresser where an ancient clay vase stood, another family heirloom passed down from years before. Rochelle frowned and started wondering why the ticking was coming from over there until it struck her in a moment of horror as the words fell out her mouth.
It all happened in a singular moment, as if time was in slow motion. The vase exploded into a thousand pieces as the family scattered. Windows broke as helicopters flew in from over the horizon, people in all black outfits swung in and started shooting.
Rochelle ran as fast and far as she could, trying to find a good place to hide or escape. As she dashed up the stairs and reached the top floor she found herself in her parents bedroom and the closet door was ajar. Perfect! She ran into the closet and hid amongst her mother's evening gowns and waited for silence. But all she could hear was screaming; incessant, horrifying screams. All she could do was sit there, waiting either to die, or until the people left.
After what felt like hours the house had gone deadly silent. Rochelle crept out of her mother's closet and peered out the window, out of sight. The helicopters were leaving, the people dressed in black armour leaving and one man with a black mask and goggles with a metal arm stowing his weapons and leaving their land, covered in blood. They had finished the job, it seemed. Rochelle crept downstairs warily as kitchen and waiting staff lay dead on the floor, riddled with bullets. She crept back to the dining room and couldn't help but scream.
There, lying dead on the floor was her father and mother, blood everywhere, trailing on the carpet where they must have been dragged. Throughout the house Rochelle found her sisters and brothers bodies scattered on the ground, bloody and motionless. Her youngest brother, little Paulie was right at her feet, motionless, his face frozen in fear and pain. Her eyes felt hot as she screamed and cried and she could've sworn she'd gone blue in the face as she caught her reflection in the shattered mirror shards.
She ran to her father's study and found the file he'd shown her last year and she flipped through, looking for something else. She flipped to the front and saw a familiar face, her father's old secretary from her childhood and an address. A New York address.
Sorry if that was a bit long winded but hey, I tried! And if it doesn't make sense....I can write a part 2???
