Down Below

One creature, no home, one life, all alone, one haunt, one roost, red eyes, powerful boost. This is the story told by the creature itself. not like your average story stored on your average book shelf. one girl, a life of destruction.

Our story begins with a foolish young barber in London on some street ineptly named Fleet Street. I’ll never know why my brother moved here. its such a little street infested with roaches, rats, and all together crude and veil inhabitance. I mean as if my parents getting the electric chair wasn’t bad enough, now my two sisters were dead all because they believe in god. Its sickening. Why we moved from our cozy retreat in Ireland beats me. We had everything we could have ever wanted.  A sweet but, deadly canine who could think of nothing but protecting me. he had three heads and one looked as if from a poodle. I named him Serverious witch means hell hound. his nick-name is fluffy witch is ironic because you see there was nothing really fluffy  or cute about him. Ok well maybe I underestimated his cheery disposition because we ended up with a lot of dead bunny rabbits buried into our backyard. well we didn't really have a back yard. no one in Ireland did except for the farmers and sheep herders. While my parents were still alive, they spent the likeness of their days in doors, witch I didn't understand at all. I mean after all nothing about cheery old Ireland was able to keep people indoors for the rest, no, all of their life. Come on long fields inhabited by oceans of purple/blue lavenders and bright yellow daises, big empty and even haunted castles that were very easy to get into,  and long hot sandy beaches with water that when the sun hit it jus right seemed much like a place called rivendell from the lord of the rings books witch I might add that I will be using some of the names from since I cant very well tell u the real names of these people or things or whatever u want to call the things that inhabit the darkest regions of this tale.