Intro: Passing

It was April the fourth 1966, and rain
pitter pattered upon the cobweb-laden
window sill causing a black cat to run in
through the catflap. Kirsty Mclure, was a
fiery young lady of 16, with flaming red
hair,and the complexion of a ghost. The
house was old and creaky, with a scent
of tarnished oak, lingering in the
atmosphere. The house was situated a
few miles from the nearest town and was
perfect for a family who valued privacy.
An old fasioned radio, much like one
you'd expect to find in a dusty antique
store, was playing a crackly tune from its
bellowing speakers. It played a twinkling
dreamlike tune which it repeated over,
and over again complemented by the
high pitched 'laa'ing of the young girl.
The back door was wrenched open as a
deep wrinkle-faced man stumbled into
the room. He was obviously distressed as
he threw a smoking shotgun to the
ground, his hair was dark and plastered
to his face, and a large amount of thick
stubble gave him a rough edge to his
demeanour. His white vest was covered
with a reddish brown tone which could
only be described as a mix of mud and
blood, and his hoarse voice ricocheted
throughout the house;' Kirsty, where the
fuck are you girl!... KIRSTY!'kirsty barely
heard her fathers voice over the radio
but once she did a ripple of fright pulsed
throughout her body.Over the past few
weeks, kirsty had noticed the distinct
changes to the way her mother and
father reacted to one another, her
mother had spent alot of her time crying
alone in her room, she had developed
bruising along her fragile arms and a
deep purple bruise that covered the
right side of her downtrodden face. Her
dad had changed alot too, he had
become depressed, angry and depended
on violence as a way to solve the families
issues. Ever since kirsty had been on the
recieving end of a plummeting shovel,
she never questioned her father again. It
was punishment, she soon found out a
few months back, for asking him why her
mother had lashes on her back. Her
father had told her quite severely never
to talk of it again, and she didn't need
telling twice.Kirsty sat in an old
embroidered chair clinging to a downy
pillow, as she awaited her fathers rage.
She knew she was in trouble since she
witnessed her father drag her mother, by
the hair out into the garden, as she
screamed cried and pleaded for him to
let her go.What made it worse was she
heard her name in an ear-piercing
scream that echoed into the deepest
darkest corners of her soul. And soon the
time came.'KIRSTY GET THE FUCK UP!'
he said as he marched his way over to
her and grabbed her wrist... AND YES
KIRSTY NOW ITS YOUR TURN!! SHE
CANT PROTECT YOU NOW, THE STUPID
BITCH IS DEAD!!!' she grabbed at the
chair for dear life but all she could grip
was the pillow.'THIS IS ALL HER FAULT
KIRSTY!!, YOUR MOTHER CHEATED ON
ME!!'She was petrified and it showed as
tears flooded down her face. She was,
however, silent. 'I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT
A WHORE SHE WAS!!! AND IM SORRY I
HAVE TO DO THIS,' at that point he
pushed her into the large pictured,
hallway and she tripped backwards onto
the stone floor.He grabbed the pillow
from her grasp and simply stared at her
face as it disappeared beneath. A firm
pressure was all it took and within a few
minutes the struggling stopped.After a
few minutes, he glanced at his hands,
and reality crept over him. He lifted the
pillow from her delicate face, and dark,
dull lifeless eyes pierced him. In remorse
he allowed tears to shed from his eyes,
they landed upon her cheek and rolled
helplessly off onto the floor. He picked
himself up and shuffled over to the door,
where he picked up the discarded shot
gun. He stepped outside and closed the
door behind him, within the fresh air, a
dove sounded in the distance, the breeze
played upon his face, and then with a
sharp, earth shattering crash he followed
his wife and daughter.


Any thoughts feelings or ideas for a continued plot I'd love to hear from you :)