In the Genes - Chapter One

The crows cawed in the dim lit sky , blurs and smudges of black hitting the soft blues and white of the clouds in a gloomy or artful way , depending on the person looking at it. And to Melody it was a murder of crows in the sky . Her pale skin toned nicely with the sheets of snow covering the fields , lacing the trees and smothering the blades and tufts of grass . A rough dragging noise could be heard if you were close enough to her in the forest , as she achingly yet almost skillfully dragged the body shaped heap through the falling snow. Her Red and black tartan wool jacket sagged slightly on her body , not fitting her for now but will as she grows , she hoped. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows , letting a large red smudge on her fore arm to be shown , along with a similar smudge on her red cheeks , red from the chill of the ice and snow.As she dragged the bag and duct taped covered body , it left a mix of snow , blood , and dirt as she marched slowly on. Eventually it became clear of her destination as the sizeable lake came into view. It seemed to steal the image of the grey white and charcoal black mountains , the reflection being incredibly on point.

A large splash could be heard form the other side of the lake as the body slowly sank its way to the bottom of the lake , the ripples making the reflection of the mountains warp and shake , ruining the original image to most people. Absolutely Beautiful to Melody. She stood on the edge of hill-like bank of the lake , looking down into dark depths of the never ending murky waters , anything could be down there , the reflection like a cloak , masking the dread the lake kept covered at the bottom.Melody let the thoughts flow through her brain as quickly as that body sank. 'If this is wrong, then so is that lake.' She told herself as she tilted her head to the side , taking in the still mountains. 'And those mountains. Those trees , the land .'A full five minutes passed as she finished the conversation with herself , before washing the various scuffs of blood off of her arm and walking back the route she came , a face of not joy , not sadness, nor grief. A face of acceptance and understanding. Or more so , happy with not understanding. Her Brown and black hiking boots cracked and trudged through the ever- thickening snow , her Dark navy jeans clinging to her well toned legs making it clear that this wasn't the first walk she had endured. Another fifty-five minutes later and she had finally reached her home. A not too small cabin-like cottage , plotted right in the middle of a ring of a small field before being covered in thick forest.


She unlocked the brown door with a sigh as she went inside , the warmth of a strong fire hitting her hard , with open arms of course."Dad?" She stood at the doorway , just enough to be able to grasp the sweet heat of the kindling fire of their home. After a good minute of silence , and appreciation of the warmth , she clicks the door closed , gives a slight hug of her warm wool jacket, and another soft sigh before collapsing lazily into the worn sofa , pushed right to the edge of the cabin walls , the frame of the sofa being the same colour of the wood making up the walls of their home.Too bland and simple for a normal person , but lovingly perfect to Melody. A mechanical whir filled the room for a second before the block-like tv on a little wooden stand flashed on , followed by the flick of a changing channel as Melody un-amusingly ran through the channels. Minutes passed , making it seem like she wasn't even paying attention , clicking the button for amusement in a somewhat backward seeming manor , before finally stopping . Something had caught her sharp hazel eyes."And To the choirmaster. Of David. The fool says in his heart, "There is no God." They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds, there is none who does good"The man in a white gown on the tv claimed and rambled on, making Melody's head turn, and give the lightest of smirks.

An hour passed.The distant caws of the crows could be heard as they flew across the very dim and now dark sky, aswell as the odd howl of a wolf , sending the crows off to another spot . Only later to be howled away again or shot by a bored hunter. The heavy wooden door clicked and began to open before a sigh-ridden man walked in , his hand sliding down his face in what seemed to be tiredness, or maybe just a face of almost-defeat. "Hey kid" the figure spoke in a clearly tired but loving manor as he hangs his Stetson on the crudely made hat rack , right next to the door before he brushes off the snow and slight frost from his shoulders.Melody's eyes were glued to the screen , perhaps not in the way the pastor of the tv show had intended. "Hey Pa"Her reply wasn't one of ignorance, surprisingly she was fully aware of her fathers presence , but eyes kept to the tv.She was curled up on the sofa, clutching on a pillow , looking like a pillar of innocence . Her father dropped down into the seat next to hers , her head moving from the pillow to his lap.A sigh escaped the mans lips as he undid his police holster , landing it on the walnut coffee table in front of him , gun and all. His hair was a dark blonde , uniformly combed with a smart seeming parting on his left, some stray hairs frayed at his fringe however , a sign of stressful day.His eyes squinted as he realized what was on the little box's screen."Christian TV? You never took me for the type to believe in god"Her father gave a soft chuckle as he gave Melody's black-licked blonde hair a gentle stroke."I'm not. There is no god"At first the bluntness of her voice seemed straightforward before Melody's grin crawled along her face , as she points the remote control towards the tv and snapped the channel to a different one.



The next day Lawrence Scissore tapped his sore knuckles against the rough wood frame of the door , not too loudly , and the answer of silence was as good as a 'yes father , come in father ' to any other man with any other fifteen year old kid . But this was Lawrence Scissore and Melody Scissore , and the return of silence was as good as Melody screaming "Im dead Pa , my wrists are open and i'm dead" A rough stroke of his gristled chin and a short breath later was followed by a harder knock. "Kid?" never had silence been so painful to his begging ears , silence to lawrence didn't need too many ingredients to start screaming alarm bells , like some underwhelming yet cyanide filled cake. Not that he knew how to bake. Back in '95 Lawrence had 'baked' a cake for his sweetheart , crudely slanted and with the most irrtable crooked icing spelling out 'Happy birthday Daisy Dew' . People coughed out the joke that's why Daisy was dead. She'd much rather die then eat that cake. seventeen years later and that one joke stamped permanently in his mind was pulsing thoughts so wrong through his racing veins. 'Bake her a cake Lawrence' his mind whispered to his so desperate ears. He was never good with silence after '95.

"Hon we got to talk" the door was adruptley pushed open , the click of the lock snapping open broke the seal of silence as he stepped in. His tiring pupils met with those of melodies , a swift hand movement pulling away the earbuds that were lodged in her ears like plastic nesting cuckoo's , caught by the wicked foxish hands of their owner. "whats up pa?"Her soft voice was warmth to his ever-freezing thoughts. She was the always remaining reminder of what Daisy wasn't. Daisy at least seemed to try and care , and then the string links start forming again. Lawrence would tell His Daisy Dew that nothing can be nothing once you add a link. And this link was that Daisy never did care in the sweetest way possible , and Melody doesn't care because she tries too hard to . The word tragic comes to Lawrence's thoughts often and much like 'Bake her a cake' , it was wildly present.
"i just .. i need to tell you , about my Pa."and like a match to gasoline her eyes gave a sudden spark. Lawrence had picked up on this Spark 7 years ago when he joined the Fargo Police Department , before mastering the skill of Spark spotting once he grabbed up the spot of Police Chief. Every person has a spark , that twinkle in their eye , all you have to do is lure it out with fat facts until one hits gold , triggers something in the person, and out crawls the spark. it became almost instinct to get that Spark , get the spark and you get the person. And their secrets. "Your not dumb , i know you know what.. he did.. but i never talked to you about it "That spark shone like a spotlight in a actors face , and much like the director screaming 'Action!' Melody gave a somewhat confused face. "i don't know a whole lot.." The 4 or so books on her walnut shelf all labelled with 'The Scissore killer' in some way or form seemed to prove her wrong."I was born after he was shot. so i can't tell you much about him . But he was a killer , Melody , a sick one. He didn't kill those people for the things they did , not for the fame , not the books and stories and films they'll make , but because he could. " The tone of his voice was sincere , the persuasion was painfully obvious , and yet a sinister undertone was laced around it all.