The Following

Outside 72 Rolling Lane, the atmosphere was a dreary one that seemed to foretell of things to come. Evil things. As she looked out the huge stained-glass window in the sitting room, it was almost as if she could see the weather change from only overcast to full-blown stormy. This intrigued the observant girl; she amused herself for a time just watching leaves blow past in the street, street signs sway in the turbulent wind, and the forks of lightning that would add some color to the otherwise dark black void that was the storm clouds. She heard footsteps upstairs, and suddenly loud shouting and crashing sounds. This didn't surprise her any, as her mom and dad were prone to fighting and loud arguments. The girl just went on watching the storm brewing out the window, oblivious to what was really going on upstairs.

"You can't! I won't let you!"

"It's not your decision, Dylan. She'll be part of The Following, just as I was and my mother before me. It's a continuous cycle that cannot be broken, no matter how much you want it to. In the end, she'll become a Follower and that will be the end of that."

"She won't become a foul mental lackey just like you! She's better than that! If you think for one minute that you can have her for your own whims, Charlotte, you're wrong! Even if I die she won't become a Follower. Never!"

"Oh, really? Let us see about that. Avada kedavra!"

And as the rush of sudden death overtook poor Dylan, a scream was wrenched from his lips that carried downstairs to the girl's ears. She looked up, startled back into reality.

"What has happened this time?" she thought to herself as she got up from her perch on the window seat to go and investigate. As she took that first step unto the floor, however, an invisible force yanked the girl out of her home, as if the floor was a Portkey. Before she could figure out heads or tails of the situation, she found herself standing in the entranceway of a huge building. The pale, well-polished marble floor reflected the worried, anxious look on her face as she looked at her feet to make sure all of her was there. Tapestries and portraits adorned the walls, each so animated it was if they were moving.

"Wait a second! They are moving," she thought, astonished. She blinked a couple of times, as if to clear her vision. She looked again; yes, still moving.

"I must be out of my mind," she muttered to herself, rotating slowly on the balls of her feet, observing the entirety of the strange room she happened to find herself in. She noticed a huge crest that decorated the top of an archway situated over a towering staircase. As she tried to study it in the flickering light of the torches hanging on the walls, a tall, old man descended the staircase. He smiled sadly as he saw her. His calm, caring voice made her jump.

"Ah, yes, we have been expecting you. Right this way."

Numbly she followed, wondering how this had ever happened in the first place.

Hopefully she could find some answers here.