Town of Deadly Hollow, Part One - Sarah D.

Christmas is a wonderful time of year. Children playing, carolers singing, parents buying presents. At least that’s how I wanted it to be. In the small town of Deadly Hollow, things weren’t like that. Christmas was forbidden, almost forgotten in this god forsaken place. Anyone who lived there like me would tell you, it just wasn’t the place to grow up.

You're probably wondering who I am. Well my name to me isn’t really that important. But I guess I could tell you. Anna. Anna Mackanzie. I was a fifth generation in Deadly Hollow. My Great-Great Grandparents from my father’s side moved here before his Grandfather was born.

Their names were James Mackanzie and Jane Mackanzie. They had three children in all, Jeremy, Jack, and Eliza. Eliza unfortunately died at the age of six. No one knows why just that one day she was healthy as a bat then the next day, well dead. My father’s Grandfather was Jack, the second oldest in the family. Jeremy never married and died all alone. I always found that weird to tell you the truth.

Of course, I left it be since no one in the family wanted to talk about it. Jack married young I believe, age sixteen, going on seventeen to a young girl named Katrina. Katrina was someone everyone adored; unfortunately she died during her second child birth to Diana. Diana died not to long after her mother to measles. Jack now had only his son, my Grandfather, in his life. He named him James after his father.

James, my grandfather, fell in love with a lawyer’s daughter. She unfortunately had a thing for the richest family in Deadly Hollow and wouldn’t give him a glance. Out of anger, he raped her. She ended up pregnant with my Father, Jack Mackenzie. After being forced to marry James to keep her family’s good appearance, she hung herself in front of my six year old father. May god bless her soul. Jack forever mortified of his mother’s death was sent to counseling a good six years until he was deemed stable. He met my mother, at age twelve, and that was that. At age sixteen they both got married and had six children. Five boys and one girl, in other words, me.

Now that we have that settled let me tell you one thing, when I was four my mom was killed in front of my eyes. Although, I can’t remember much, that’s not really that important. I am now twenty-one years old and a very well known writer. My oldest brother Drew is happily married with six kids of his own. He’s now a reporter for the Daily Times.

Actually, let me just cut to the chase and tell you that all of my brothers are happily married with kids. As for me, I have been married twice with no kids from either. I think my brother said something about them being sterile. It doesn’t matter anymore, I wasn’t really planning to have kids nor do I want any at this stage of my life. Anyways, the story I am about to write is not for the weak of heart or in this case stomach, defiantly not the stomach.

It’s about treachery, murder, and betrayal. But all in all it’s about how I came to understand something very important. There are secrets in every family, which are sometimes best left as that, a secret. If you are of weak stomach or heart turn back now, go read the book on happy fairies and unicorns that dance in broad daylight to merry little tunes, cause I will tell you one thing there are no daisy’s up ahead, just a deep understanding of how sometimes children should never look where they are not welcomed to look. But if you think that you can handle it, by all means be my guest, after all I can’t stop, now can I?