Molly Lumington, 18 years old, was driving to the new house she had just bought. She was from Arizona, a deserted town named Wadestoke, where nothing ever happened. The most dramatic thing that ever occurred was when old grouchy Mrs. Hargrove lost her cat for 17 hours. As soon as Molly was legally able to own her own house, she moved out of that boring place.
It took her 2 months to find the perfect home. She chose a nice blue and white house in Redwood Shores. Her new address was 317 Evelyn Street. She liked the name, Evelyn. If she ever was going to have a daughter, she would name her Evelyn or Lucy. She wasn't sure which name to pick.
As she was driving, there was a red truck in front of her. A dog stuck his fluffy head out of the window. Molly first thought: "Aww, that's so cute!" She was a dog person, but her parents never liked them. She decided she was going to own one as soon as possible after she moved in.
When she thought about her parents, she thought about the argument they had. Her mother and father disagreed that Molly is going to buy a house on the internet and the fact that she had never seen it personally. The dog started turning his head towards Molly, which distracted her from her thoughts. She was slightly giddy, since the back of his head was covered in white fur and was neatly combed, so she figured he must have been cute, with a perfect little snout. The dog struggled to look back in the strong wind. His long ears were flapping over his face. But she was horrified when she could see the dog's face properly.
It was disfigured, twisted and mad. As if someone picked out its eyes, nose, and mouth and let a kinder gardener put them back. And most horrifying of all, it was smiling, but like a dog. This dog had a very human-like smile, except no human could twist their face that far upwards into a smile. Fresh blood was constantly dripping out of his fangs like sprinklers. And the dog was staring right into Molly's eyes. He looked at her for a few seconds. Then he twisted around to go back into the car. Then she heard the driver of the red truck screaming, then the car swerved. It went right to left, drunkenly until it found its final destination, smashing into a large tree on the side of the road. A big splash of blood landed in a corner of her windshield. It formed a weird shape.
Molly swerved into another lane, petrified. She took a few deep breaths and took her exit. "Just my imagination. Probably need an aspirin." she kept repeating to herself. But she couldn't get that image out of her head.
By the time she arrived at her house, she almost had forgotten what happened on the highway. Her new home was more beautiful than the pictures of her new home. As she walked in, she waved at her new neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Proffitt, whom she knew because they were friends of her parents. The previous owners had left everything, from furniture to kitchenware and linen... She felt the sale arrangements unusual, but she decided not to think about it because she was beyond happy to get out of her home town. She moved her personal belongings into the living room, took out the cardboard box out of the trunk of the car, and explored the house. Then slightly exhausted, she plopped onto the couch and turned on the TV.
A smiling news anchorwoman was sitting at a desk. "And welcome back! Today, we are-" she was interrupted by something in her earpiece. She listened, frowned a little. Then she announced: " There is Breaking news. Only two hours ago, the Pinkstone family was murdered. Two years old Evelyn and seven years old Lucy were shot with a rifle, while their parents were gored with a butcher's knife. The newscast continued.
"This symbol was painted on the wall of Lucy Pinkstone." It showed a bloody crosshair and the number "316" painted in blood, slowly dripping down the wall.
Molly shivered. How was that possible? Her future daughters were gonna be named Evelyn and Lucie."Maybe it was just a coincidence?" she tried to convince herself. But she knew too many coincidences kills the coincidence itself.
This was impossible. It must be. How could you explain the mother of Evelyn and Lucy was named Molly?
She continued to listen to the news lady.
"The father and wife of Evelyn, Lucy and Molly were named Cole Pinkstone. He was an engineer at the CDV company..."
Now Molly was beyond scared.
Back in high school, her boyfriend was named Cole. They had dreamed together to live in a bright yellow house with a big bay window in the front, and a large garden in the back.
A bright yellow house just like the Pinkstone family owned.
Molly turned off the TV and ate some dinner, distracting her from what she just saw on TV. She personalized her new home and went to bed.
The next day, Molly woke up at 7 in the morning, which was weird, since she usually slept late. She dressed up, brushed her hair, ate her pancakes and brushed her teeth. She went outside to water her purple petunias and stopped cold when she heard a bloodcurdling scream. It was Mrs. Proffitt. Molly, terrified, started running to check if her neighbor was fine.
Much to Molly's relief, Mrs. Proffitt was outside, unharmed. Molly breathed out a small sigh. She went up to her neighbor, who was bawling her eyes out. Molly said, soothingly "Mrs. Proffitt, tell me what is wrong." The old lady kept crying but slowly pointed to her house. Molly tilted her head, and her neighbor nodded and gave her permission to enter her house.
She walked into the house slowly, unsure of what to expect. She checked the whole house, every nook, and cranny. She stood at the doorway, about to tell the sobbing Mrs. Proffitt that nothing was wrong, but she stopped cold, one drip of crimson blood fell on her shoulder.
Very slowly, she looked up, and she saw the mutilated corpse of Mr. Proffitt hanging from the ceiling. With his blood was written 316, with an arrow pointing at the doorway, and the words "Granada Avenue".
Molly ran out of the house and fumbled with her phone to call 911.
Author Notes: To Be Continued!
(It sucks, but I wrote this a really long time ago. Hopefully I improved!)