White picket fence, the typical picture.
Think you should know, that's not what I'm into.
I'm not an ordinary girl
Got your scent and
I'm gonna follow it.
All of the girls think I'm a bit psycho,
Maybe I am, but that's the way I role
And when I got you watch the whole world know
I am truly original.'

Extreme by Valora continues to play as I watch a world of a grey early morning pass through my window in the back seat of the black limo. Limo… cool, right? No, it's not. My parents left me everything, including the limo and our Irish driver, Samson, who could've quit when they died, but didn't. As it is, it's about three a.m., but I'm not worried, for I have an awkward sleeping schedule. We say nothing as we drive through what looks like a foggy, deserted ghost town and into the outskirts, where an over-grown forest reaches out at you from either side, which a semi-deep ditch before the green darkness begins. Samson makes a right onto a bumpy gravel road down a long driveway lined with eerie-looking trees with fog thickly interwoven all the way in between them, making it impossible to see beyond the barrier they create. It isn't until we reach the end of the road that one of us finally says something.

"Mistress, I believe we are 'ere." Samson says with half-hearted perkiness as he pulls into the driveway of a huge onyx-black colored mansion with ivory edging. Intricate laces of ivy and rose tendrils scale the walls. The place itself seems old, but sturdy. A sense of foreboding washes over me as I stare at the empty windows of the fourth story. The day is grey and cloudy. Gloomy and dark, the way I like it. But I feel a dark vibe emanating from within the dark corridors of the mansion. "I don't like this place, Samson." I say finally. "Something about it doesn't feel right. Something…" I frown at the towering stature that is to be my new home, at a lost for words on how to describe the dark, pulsing aura coming from the house. It's like it's alive. Like… it knows we're here. Like its been expecting us. Like it wants us to come inside and never leave… Like it knows something we don't. "Aye, Mistress, I understand what ye mean, but it is our only option. Unless, o' course, ye found somethin' in those voodoo books o' yer's to bring back yer parents." Samson winks and I give him an amused half-smirk. The only kind of smile I've been able to accomplish since I turned five. "Ready to face the beast within, Samson?" I ask, taking my black suitcase in hand, opening the door, and grabbing my violin with my free hand. "Ready when you are, Mistress." Samson parks the limo and takes out the keys before pulling himself out. He's only about twenty five. He was twenty when he started working for us. As soon as he started driving us, he and I became best friends. We have been ever since. I study him thoroughly but quickly. His dirty red hair cut short and spiked while his pretty aquamarine eyes sparkle with a hidden taste for new things and adventure. His strong set jaw reminding me of a Viking while his lean, tall build gives me the impression of an athlete who also weight lifts and runs regularly. Okay, maybe those last two things I already know, but at least you got some insight, right?

Either way, we trudge sullenly up to the door and Samson pulls a chain and we hear a large echo of the doorbell from within. After a few minutes, no one comes so Samson pulls the chain once again. I grimace as the fog begins to thicken around us. After several minutes, we can't see the limo. "Try knocking." I suggest quietly, as if afraid that there might be someone watching us, watching our every move, but I'm not. Samson nods and knocks on the door. After ten minutes, there's nothing. "Damnit." I mutter before pounding on the door with as much force as I can, making the door creak. I stand back beside Samson and we wait for another fifteen minutes with no signs of life coming from anywhere but us. I growl and turn off the steps. "Let's go back into town, Samson. Maybe someone can help us figure out where we're suppose to go." I motion for him to go ahead and he jogs forward into the fog and is quickly swallowed whole.

I quickly find my door to the limo by following the sound of the engine and reach for the handle. "Hello…" I freeze. This disembodied voice, like dark chocolate melted over a sweet cascading waterfall of sparkling champagne, sends my skin into goose-bump mode. I quickly forget that fact as I look around, but see no one. I zero in on a random spot and focus hard. Slowly, the shape of a human figure seems to appear. I cock my head to one side slightly, confused. "Uh, hi?" I give a small wave, and the blurry figure turns and leaves. "Wait a minute. Do you know where-" and they're gone. I let out a huff of breath. And open the door and slide into the now warm limo and close it with a sense of finality.