CARRIE WHITE BURNS IN HELL, THEY SAY.

Oh, if only they knew....

Fae Morgan opened the pamphlet in her hands, scouring the pages for anything of interest. "You know, if we were here in Chamberlain on that day, it would probably have cured my boredom," she said, her paper pale skin and near-white hair a bright beacon of light in the gloomy remains of the town. Which was probably best since her siblings always joked that looking at her in the sunlight would blind someone. Dark clouds covered the sky, and the air smelled of rain though none had yet to fall. 

"Fae, that's a terrible thing to say!" her father, Darren, scolded. "You know exactly what happened here; it's nothing less than a tragedy."

"Yeah, I mean isn't it just the bit unsettling that most of the victims were our age?" his other daughter, Kendra, snorted as she peered over her shoulder, unnerved by her sister's casualness regarding the topic. "But leave it to people to always find a way to make money from a tragedy. Now can we just get this over with because this is creepy."

"It would be wrong not to at least come here first before we check anything else out," Fae shot back.

Chamberlain was once known to be the sunniest place to live in Maine within the United States of America. Now, it almost appeared to be as dead as the people who passed in the rampage of one girl ("It almost reminds of what remains of the camps," Orenda Morgan had muttered upon entering, her eyes faraway as her mind was taken back to her childhood. Immediately afterwards, she decided to wait in the car). People who had lived through it, who still had memories of that dreadful night, had moved away and gone elsewhere to escape. Buildings destroyed or damaged were still in ruins as most hadn't bothered to repair. Sidewalks were broken, cars demolished, and Ewen High School burnt down. There were even still scorch marks and long, thick cracks on the paved roads from all those years ago, a permanent reminder. And that's what made it such an incredible attraction to those interested in the paranormal events that had taken place that night.

Because it was certainly anything but normal. And certainly hard to believe it the cause of this chaos and destruction to be one young teenage girl.

And that girl's name was Carrie White. 

How was Carrie White to be described? One would only be able to tell depending on what sources were used from media. Either from books, movies, interviews, newspaper articles, or even from eyewitnesses. Though some might not be as reliable as they claimed. The media had labeled her "The Killer Prom Queen," because of the circumstances of her murder spree.

The only reason the Morgan family had come in the first place was due to Fae's constant and persistent pleading. She had always been intrigued by paranormal occurrences, signs of those like herself and her family out there. And the story of Carrie White was a puzzle to her she felt had to be solved: What had driven her to murder four hundred and forty people on that night? 

She had read the articles and books written about Carrie White, and had learned a good portion, but she thought it best to learn more by going to the Prom Queen's birthplace. True, her family found her fascination with the Killer Prom Queen a tad morbid if not alarming, but she had seen the video concerning Carrie on the night of prom before the one taking it had been killed, and there was something in her eyes that strengthened Fae's curiosity all the more.

On May 28th, 2013, it was the biggest night of every high school senior's life: Prom Night. The town had been bright and alive with everyone rushing to get ready, and the school had been full of students, teachers, bright lights, and music. Everyone was there, even Carrie White. The girl no one ever liked. She had been bullied and abused her whole life by her peers from summer camps to kindergarten, from high school to home life, her mother a fanatical Christian fundamentalist with a vindictive and unstable personality. But that night, Prom had been going perfect, even for the one person whose life was anything but.

That is, until it turned out what had once been a perfect night for that one lonely, bullied girl, was just a terrible prank. Her peers had dumped pig's blood on her just as she'd been voted Prom Queen. Which led to pain, anger, hate and suffering. Which had led to one of the most tragic events known, even more tragic than the JFK assassination: The Prom Massacre (a.k.a. The Black Prom).

According to survivors, teenage female Carrie White, had released an immense shockwave toward the crowd. That she'd thrown people through the air, set fire to the school, electrocuting a good portion of students and teachers, having locked the doors so no one could leave. That while people were dying and panicking, she'd levitated off the ground and floated outside. And that was only with the school. After she'd dealt with her constant everyday tormentors, she'd extended her rage to the rest of town, ripping out cable lines, destroying buildings, murdering those in her path either indirectly or intentional. 

Many eyewitnesses stated that she did this all with her mind, and that during this rampage she walked home. Ten minutes later, the house on Carlin Street belonging to the White family, was destroyed into a pile of rubble. The family was declared dead.

The graveyard was full to the brim of the dead, full of gravestones. A chest tomb, with an angel praying on the right, was placed to remember the tragedy of the Black Prom. It was clear from the state of the town, that Chamberlain still had yet to rebuild itself from the ashes in the past years, and possibly never would because the residents of town had lost the will to hope. The cemetery was empty, no one in sight except them and not a sound to be heard.

After all, many, if not all of the residents decided to leave town in order to forget the deaths and the Carrie White affair, turning Chamberlain into a ghost town except for the occasional tourists.

It was in front of the graveyard that Fae stood before, looking for the grave of Carrie White. In one hand she held the pamphlet and in the other she held a rose. After all, she'd be offended, if someone came a long way just to gawk at her grave and not leave anything to pay her respects, despite Carrie White being pushed to the point where she couldn't take anymore. When she finally saw the gravestone, her mouth dropped open at the discovery that it cracked down the middle and was graffitied with red spray paint, saying:

'CARRIE WHITE BURNS IN HELL.'

"Well, that's just rude," Fae sighed in disapproval. Even in death, they were still hurting her. It was probably some teenagers or something still angry at the girl for her deeds.

Another set of roses were there, withered and brown with age. Fae added to it, placing her rose down before walking away, leaves dancing along the wind. Although she glanced back, unable to keep from thinking about how the crack running along the stone led straight from underneath the ground....

Just as she joined them, her father grabbed her free hand and pulled her along with them as she read so she wouldn't walk into a telephone pole or tree. "Now here comes the even creepier part of town," her adoptive brother Henry muttered, the hood of his black hoodie over his head, earning himself a swat on the arm by Fae.

"It's not creepy. It's an important part of Carrie White and her history," she snapped.

"Which is an exact replica with a play and everything that's a depiction of the woman going nutso," he shot back in a matter of fact tone as he shoved his hands into his pocket. If noted the pointed look their father gave him, he ignored it. "Thus, creepy to the third power."

"I'm on him with this one," Kendra agreed.

"Shut up, both of you!"

"Am I going to have to separate all three of you? Or if it's this much of a problem, we can just get back into the car and drive home."

"No, Dad, everything's fine," Fae huffed, though behind his back, she slid her pointer finger across her throat at both her siblings. Then she turned back to her pamphlet. "So...about the house."

And then there was the White house. It wasn't a pile of rubble anymore like Fae had seen on the news when she was younger. It had been restored to its full stature from the day before it'd been destroyed. Some say that a rain of stones came from the heavens and pummeled the house until nothing was left much like an incident that had happened at some point before in young Carrie's childhood. Nearly everything was to its exactness from back then...if not for the sign out on the front lawn that read, "THE WHITE HOUSE MUSEUM PRESENTS THE CARRIE EXPERIENCE, ONLY $20 PER TICKET!"

"And it doesn't bother you at all that some scum saw all the attention this place was getting, and made this just to earn a quick buck off the pain of others and degradation of the memory of a teenage girl who was bullied and abused to the point of madness?" Henry couldn't help asking, almost earning him another smack except Fae knew he was right.

"Of course it does," she hissed, smacking him in the arm anyway. "But I want to see it anyway. And technically, they're not degrading her memory, they're preserving it." When she approached the front door - it was an exact remake of what she had observed the original to be in pictures - and let her hand rest on its handle but found it was locked. With a huff, she focused on the lock on the other side of the door turning until she heard a soft 'click' and let the door swing open of its own will. "And we get in for free, because I guess this 'scum' you're talking about isn't here today."

"Fae," Darren warned, not at all shocked and knowing exactly what his daughter had done. "I've told you -"

"Yeah, I know but it's only for a few minutes, I swear," Fae said, heading inside. Not having the heart to stop her, though knowing very well he could, he let her have this, waiting outside. Henry and Kendra, however, followed her inside.

The outline of the house was almost the same, yes, down to the furniture itself, but all the pictures on the walls were positioned wrong. Velvet ropes and signs were strung about the floors and walls leading to different parts of the house. Glass casing was set overtop small things that caught Fae's eyes; the telephone situated just outside the living room, books about Jesus Christ that people said had been thrown out Carrie's bedroom window the night before prom, and even Margaret White's bible that almost all the past residents of town could remember considering her late husband Ralph had once carried it with him everywhere. As her fingers skimmed over the glass, careful not to smudge or leave traces of her presence, Fae couldn't help but wonder how many times Carrie White's mother had recited these passages to her, and if this had been part of her abuse.

At the front entrance hall of the house were three things, each holding some piece of importance. The first was the bucket Chris had filled with pig's blood. Beneath was a sign delving into how it had killed Tommy Ross, Carrie's prom date, and how this very bucket started it all. ("To think, a bucket was what started the murder of over four hundred people," Henry had said with more than a touch of sarcasm. This earned him another punch in the arm by Fae and Kendra stomping on his foot with her hot pink stilettos). Then there was the tiara....The one Carrie White wore when she became prom queen, and it was still just as broke and bloody as before. Fae leaned into the glass, trying not to breath on it, mesmerized by the sight. To think, she had worn this right before the blood knocked it off and everything crumbled apart like the sad remains of this town....And at the center of both items, was a life-sized wax figure of Carrie White herself. Her blank, ruthless stare burned into Fae as it gave her a cold reminder of how everyone must see her now: a merciless, God-forsaken demon who should never see the light of day. This is what the world made of the story of Carrie White.

Even now she was portrayed as a freak, something to gawk at and pass the story around a campfire and warn your children about. Fae shivered as she realized her legacy along with her family's would likely become similar to this should anyone find out what they are, even if they never had hurt anyone.

"Okay, I take it back, this is creepy to the fifth power," Henry muttered, and this time both girls voicelessly agreed with him.

"The closet's in the wrong place." Fae spoke suddenly into the silence when she noticed it.

"Huh?" Kendra raised a brow.

"The closet they talked about. It's supposed to be under the stairs, not near the kitchen..." Fae continued, her voice distance as she thought. "Do you think her mother put her in there? Probably did if what they say about Margaret White was true. The least they could have done was put her place of misery in the right place."

Kendra shook her head, placing a hand on Fae's shoulder. "Nah, victim or not, she turned from victim to victimizer," she sighed, looking around. "None of these people owe her anything, really."

"It's their fault, not hers," Fae retorted, "they knew, I can tell, about everything, and they didn't do one damn thing." She looked to Kendra. "Tell me that there weren't moments when we were growing up where you wanted to make the bullies pay."

"We never did anything like this, Fae," Henry snapped.

"But you know what it's like to want to, don't you?" Fae said in a low voice, staring into the blank, fake face of Carrie White. "Um, let's go. This place is starting to give even me the jitters."

===

Outside, in the cemetery, a loud thump suddenly shakes the ground as the rose placed against the headstone tips over. The ground shook more violently until finally with one last thump, the entire tombstone split in half and crumbled into a pile of rubble from the weight of the force. 

For a moment, all was peaceful.

Then a hand popped out from below. Another hand, dirt and blood staining the skin, clawed its way to the surface as both arms pulled against the earth. Clawing and slipping and gripping wherever they could find a hold, both hands kept pulling until the upper half of the body was freed.

Breathing heavily, it kicked and pulled until it managed to break itself away from the remainders of its grave as it simply rested on its hands and knees. Once she lifted her dirt-stained face, it was clear that this was no zombie or vampire or mythical creature.

This was the infamous Carrie White.

She looked down at her hand still scarred with the same cut form the night of the Black Prom, wearing her bloody and dirtied nightgown from the night she'd died. The dry cuts below her right leg and left arm were still there as well, made from...

Her momma.

Something wet dripped onto her skin. Another drop landed on her palm. She looked up to the dark sky to see rain pouring down. It brought a cold, bittersweet realization.

This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a nightmare nor an illusion.

She truly was alive.

Except in this moment, she wished with all she had that she wasn't.

(Author's Note: Why do I just love the idea of Hugh Jackman playing an overprotective dad with supernatural powers trying to wrangle in and protect other kids with supernatural powers?! I swear, if there was a sitcom or a movie that was like a mix of Sabrina the Teenage Witch and Wizard's of Waverly Place with Hugh Jackman as the father, I'd just hand over my money to make that happen.

Now anyway, uhh, so yeah, now that I've gotten that off my chest and am now focused, here's the first chapter, hope you like it!