Crimson: Prologue

Many things happen in the wee hours of the morning. Of course, not many people notice these things, seeing as they're more than likely asleep, comfortable in their beds. The night of May 31st was no different in the little neighborhood of Crescent Lake, Missouri. All who had done something the previous day, whether it be go to work or, in Mrs. Lennox's case, gossip about any and everyone she deemed fit, was asleep, their bedroom windows open to let in a warm summer breeze. This being the case, no one saw the odd event that took place at 3:45 in the morning.

At precisely that time, not a minute before and not a minute after, a car turned onto Grayson Street. The headlights were bright, the kind that seemed to be a little too bright to be legal, and they swept relentlessly over the small, identical homes on the street, but not a soul stirred. Not even Mrs. Lennox, who prided herself in being the first one to know everything, did anything but sigh dreamily in her slumber, her thin mouth moving as she smiled. Lord only knew what she dreamt of.

The car, whose engine was a quiet purr, pulled into a driveway. The address on the little white mailbox read 1767, and the small pink sheet of paper attached to the door indicated that 1767 Grayson Street had been abandoned for quite some time. The headlights of the sleek Chevy Corvette, which could've been any color from dark blue to black, were switched off, and in the immediate darkness that followed, a figure climbed out of the vehicle.

If anyone had been awake at the time, they would've been instantly enthralled. Their eyes would've followed the man as he casually walked, hands in his pockets, up to the front door of the little white house. Pulling one hand from his pocket, the man cupped it against the nearest window, pressing his face to the glass. It seemed that he was inspecting the interior. Did he want to purchase the house? Or was he simply curious? And if he was only curious, why would he have come to this little neighborhood, in this little town, at this time?

These questions would've plagued the mind of anyone who had seen the man. Of course, no one did, so his actions went unnoticed. As he turned from the window, his hand returned to his pocket, and he walked just as casually back to his car as he had walked away from it. Now, if anyone had been awake, the only person who would've been able to see the man's face lived in the house across the street from 1767. Since the man was currently facing the house, any one of the five people inside could've looked out of any of the windows that faced the street and caught a glimpse of him. Alas, they were all asleep, as people tend to be at 3:50 in the morning.

The man, oddly, instead of climbing back into his car and leaving, leaned against the driver's side door, his hands still in the pockets of his black slacks. His white linen shirt would've been quite dirty, since he was leaning on the car, but the car was spotless, and thus the shirt went unmarred.

His eyes roamed around the neighborhood, lingering sometimes on certain houses. Mrs. Lennox's home was one of these, though the man seemed to be looking more at the little garden at the foot of her porch steps. Something flickered across his face, then his eyes moved on. They swept quickly over the remaining homes in his immediate line of vision, and then went to rest on the horizon. He stared for a moment, then pushed himself off of his car and opened the door. He climbed inside, closed the door, started the engine, and pulled out of the driveway. His car and he left as quietly as they had come, his mind working in the darkness. The little town of Crescent Lake knew not of the changes that were about to take place, but the people who lived there were about to get the ride of their lives.

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Author's Note: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!