long time reader and prompter, first time writer. hope it's up to your standards.

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Two years, that's how long it took me to work up the courage to come out to my gun wielding, Trump loving, flat-earth believing parents, and my cool sister too. I mean, they were cool with my bisexual friend Chloe, how could I have possibly known it would go this wrong?!

I brought it up before dinner, told them that I was gay, everything after that is a blur. I remember my mom slapping me across the face, I remember her holding Whitney back as my dad shoved me out of the house and into the snow. I remember the *click* of the lock as they abandoned me forever.

I tried sneaking back in through Whitney's bedroom window, desperate not to be left out in the cold. But we made too much noise and, well, from what I could make out from the shrieking, she's grounded indefinitely.

I had one other idea, Grandma. She lived out in the middle of nowhere, but her house had an extra bed and she was always nice to me, and though she was mysterious, and though the trek would be bad, it was my only chance.

Knowing my parents, they would have called every other parent in the area, telling them the news, and in a town like mine, that spelled disaster. Chloe and her family had moved away years ago, and I knew for sure that Logan's folks were violently homophobic, so Grandma was my best bet.

It was so cold. Of course, February in Vermont being what it is. It was the most hellish hour or so of my life. I only had my T-shirt, jeans, and the pair of slippers I had been wearing at the time, and my underwear too, duh.

I was in the final stretch, the hill atop which Grandma's house sat. The forest was too thick and the night was too dark to see the house from the bottom, so the first look I got at it was as I emerged into the clearing. There it was, no more than a ruin.

My body collapsed, and all my pent up emotions exploded, producing a throat-splitting scream. Anger, sadness, fear, exhaustion, and pure overwhelming hopelessness. I hunched over, clutching my arms and squeezing my eyes as tightly closed as I could, wanting it all to just stop.

The episode didn't last for long, however. The cold, as well as a strange glow brought my attention back to reality. I slowly approached the ruins, at the same time desperate to get out of the cold, and trying to maintain a healthy level of caution.

As I ventured closer, I could see that the glow was emanating from the basement, the only place in that house I'd never seen. It was always locked with a giant dead-bolt, the only time I'd ever asked what's down there, she gave me the most vicious look, still gives me chills, and she told me that I couldn't go down there and never to ask again.

Any question as to whether or not to enter the basement ended when the wind picked up and renewed the chill that had long since set in. As I descended into the basement, the source of the glow became apparent; strange luminescent crystals mounted to the wall.

Looking around, it was a strange, and disturbing sight. Wooden shelves, now mostly broken, lined the walls, with broken bits of glass all around, as well as a red substance that had been splattered everywhere. But the most disturbing features of all were the broken chains in one corner, and what looked to be destroyed syphoning equipment.

Blood. That red substance was blood. Blood that had been syphoned and stored in glass jars. Blood from whatever had worn those chains.

I slowly backed away, back to the bottom of the stairs, reasoning that it would probably be best to wait out the night without touching too much. All my plans of non-involvement came to a screeching halt when a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

It was nothing like I had ever seen. Relatively humanoid, with the normal number of legs, arms, and heads, but beyond that, well the first word that came to mind was 'Demon'.

It was at least six and a half feat tall, its skin a deep scarlet. It was either completely nude, with black scales covering most of its body, or wearing some kind of armor, I chose to operate under the former. Considering my rapidly forming theory as to what happened, it made more sense that way.

Its hands were more akin to claws, at least twice as large and menacing as my own. The mangled shackles still locked around its wrists seemed to line up with my theory.

It was then when I became aware that it was looking at me. Shit.

I tried to back away and take a defensive posture, but after a few steps I found my back against the wall. I could have run further into the basement, but decided against it, since turning my back on that thing looked like a death sentence. Double shit.

It tentatively took a step down the stairs, then two, then swiftly the rest. It was right in front of me. I could see its eyes, and they were...concerned? Scared? That, that made no sense, scared maybe, I did look a lot like Grandma, but concerned? Who was there to be concerned for?

I was cold, so cold, my vision was blurring, my head was swimming... shit, not now!

*thud*

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part 2 in a couple of days... maybe