Prologue

No one believed little Sophia when she had claimed that she could see a tall, mysterious man standing across the road from the orphanage. She had never been known to lie before, and yet here she was, standing by the second floor window as she peered into the rain-streaked darkness of the late evening, just as she had done for the past six nights, claiming that he was just standing there, staring at the orphanage for hours on end. It wasn't that they mistrusted the young child, but something much more puzzling; Sophia was completely blind, and had been since birth– she couldn't even see the reflection of her pale, pretty face in the blackened surface of the windowpane, let alone across the road to the dimly-lit path beyond.

And yet, still she proclaimed to see this strange man, even going as far as creating an in-depth description of him. According to Sophia, the man was over six feet tall, his body held rigidly aloft, almost as if it were below him to even consider stooping or relaxing for a second. His face was gaunt and bore a sallow, yellowing complexion, his mouth constantly twisted in an unsatisfied scowl, his nose hooked slightly like a fearsome bird of prey, his eyes hidden by heavily hooded eyebrows and full, flowing blood-crimson hair that fell to the base of his spine. He wore a long black coat that swept the pavements around his feet, the material adorned with gold lace in elegant circular patterns that glinted with every flicker of the waning lamplights. The adults 

that worked within the orphanage simply dismissed this as her way of making an imaginary friend, a man only she could see to get over the frustration of not being able to see anyone real. But Sophia knew this man was not imaginary, knew that she could not possibly create such a scary friend.

Even when she was supposed to be asleep in her room, little Sophia stood by her bedroom window, her hands pressed hard against the cold surface of the glass as she peered out into the night, and the lone man that stood in it. Tonight, it was raining, although she couldn't see it herself, and yet he didn't seem to be getting wet. The raindrops seemed to stop inches from his body before evaporating from some unseen heat.

And then the man looked at Sophia, his head snapping up so fast it caught her off-guard, causing her to shriek and stumble backwards out of sight. She brought a hand to her mouth to cut off any more outbursts, and turned nervously towards the door; had any of the adults heard her? Should she climb into bed, pretend she was sleeping in case anyone chose to investigate? She couldn't hear any footsteps approach her door, and Sophia didn't want to risk keeping her eyes off the stranger for too long; now that he knew she could see him when no one else could, who knew what he'd do to her? A man that was invisible to the majority of the world could sneak into any place he wanted pretty much unhindered. Sophia clenched her eyes tightly and shuddered just thinking about it, imagining him strolling through the 

corridors and stairways of the orphanage with ease, slipping past patrolling adults without suspicion.

She ran over to the window, and her heart leapt to her throat when she saw that the tall man was no longer standing across the road from her.

No, he was right outside her window, the very glass the only thing that stopped him from being nose-to-nose with the now terrified orphan.

Sophia went to scream, but the man pressed a spindly finger to his cracked lips, and her scream died in her throat. Unable to utter a sound, she stared mutely out at him in wide-eyed horror, and he simply smiled back.

Now that he was much closer, Sophia could clearly see that the man's skin wasn't just a sickly yellow, but that it oozed pus from nearly every pore, cut and crack. His eyes, sunken and shadowed by his heavy eyebrows, seemed almost inverted, white pupils set against black so dark, so cold, they felt absent of all positive emotion; although he smiled, she doubted he had any kindness in his heart, if he even had one.

He observed her for some time, cocking his head to one side as if he was a cat staring through a cage, and Sophia was the canary. His smile grew slowly as he moved – gliding would've been a better word, she realised with horror, as there was no ground beneath him to move on – closer to the 

windowpane, the breath from his nose not so much fogging the glass as smouldering it, it seemed so hot.

"I have found you, child." Muffled behind the glass and, at the same time, chillingly clear in her head, his voice was soft and smooth like deadly velvet; you couldn't help but fall in love with it, even while it was forming a noose around your neck.

Sophia's eyes widened as she watched, helpless and paralysed, as the man brought up a hand, equally cracked and yellow, his fingernails nothing more than bleeding stumps. This hand he pressed against the glass, but it didn't remain there for long; the glass bubbled and smoked as it melted away around the hand as he pushed slowly through.

Through to her.

Finally, as the putrid hands made towards her, little Sophia found the strength to scream.

Minutes later, every carer in the orphanage burst through her door, smashing it from its lock. The first woman to spot her fell about screaming herself and was dragged forcibly out of the room by her colleagues as the men stayed behind to stand and stare at the gruesome sight.

Little Sophia stood there, facing away from them, sobbing quietly and shuddering uncontrollably as she 

continued to daub words on the far wall in a thick, dark, red paint. Words that read:

"You see, Mr.White?

Even those with no sight have the Sight,

Even the blind can see us.

I took what I needed...

And leave what little there is left,

To you..."

"Mr. White?" one of the men asked softly, looking to his colleagues for any familiarity. All but one of the men gathered shrugged and shook their heads.

"Sophia...?" asked another hesitantly, stepping forward to lay a hand on her trembling shoulder. "What's wrong, dear, why did you scream? Where did you get that paint?" he added as he turned to look her in the eyes, "And who's –"

Gagging, he choked himself off as he stared, terrified, into her eyes.

Or, rather, where her eyes had once been. For there was nothing there now but two dark, hollow sockets oozing blood, tears, oil and mucus, and it was with this that Sophia had 'painted' her message, as the carer soon found out to his horror as her left hand came up to her face, her index and 

middle finger brushing at the sticky substance before running it over the last letter in the gruesome message.

All around the room there were disgusted, sickened groans and cries from everyone in the room – all, that is, except one; the same man who hadn't spoken-up about the elusive 'Mr. White' simply sighed heavily, turned on his heel, and strode silently out of the bedroom.

No one paid him any heed as he made his way through the corridor, down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

In fact, it was almost like no one had even seen him in the first place...

A/N: This was going to be the start of a series of children's/early teen books, but since I've recently decided to take it in a different direction completely I have no use for this opener. So, please – treat it as a one-shot and 'preview' to the style of story the actual novel will be (most likely 'Darren Shan with a lot more action but maybe less gore' since I don't think I can do that so well!) and let me know what you all think of it!

This is an old story, so my writing has improved, both in grammar and style, since then – so don't worry too much 

about any awkward sentences. Just tell me what you thought of the story in whole.

Also, the sinister, mysterious man may or may not appear in the final version of the story – we shall have to see wink-wink

I hope you enjoyed it!

Dave

3