A/N: Okay, I am attempting to write a serious horror story here. NOT A PARODY. Geddit? Goodgood then. This is the prologue, it's pretty short. Do you think this is worth continuing? Oh well, even if you don't, I will anyway. And… on with the show. Third person, by the way.

It was a typical evening at the Curtis household, as often is at the start of a horror story. Darry was making dinner, Pony was doing homework and Soda was flipping through a car magazine that Steve had lent him. All was well.

The same, however, could not be said for two other houses on the East side. A teenaged boy flew out each door, which in turn slammed behind him. The two greasers nearly collided as they stormed down the street, staring at their feet and sighing in frustration.

Johnny noticed the tennis shoe in his peripheral vision just in time so as to move out of the way and not smack into the adjoining body.

"Hey, Steve," he mumbled. His shoulder hurt. Johnny's father usually beat him with the first thing he could get his hands on, and tonight's weapon of choice had happened to be a chair. A small one, but wooden all the same. Johnny was getting to the point where he would just walk out at the first sign of anger from his parents, but sometimes he just wasn't fast enough.

"Hi Johnny," Steve mirrored Johnny's monotone, obviously preoccupied tone. He was still smarting from what his father had yelled at him. Wondering if he really meant it this time.

"I'm gonna go cool off. Wanna come?"

Johnny nodded and the two teens set off into the intricate maze of intertwining streets, a silent understanding passing between them. They were the castaways, the unwanted ones who actually gave enough of a damn to keep going back. That's what made them different from Dallas. They went back, they tried again, and no matter how futile their efforts seemed, Steve and Johnny kept hoping, believing, that things would get better. That one day their father or mother would treat their son like one of their own, as opposed to a punching-bag or an anger-management release therapy session.

Steve noticed a figure standing on the corner. Slightly odd, as there was not a car in sight. He wasn't waiting to cross the road. There was no reason for this man to be standing there, completely immobile like he was. Johnny noticed him too, and had a bad feeling in his stomach, although he didn't know why.

Steve grabbed Johnny by the arm and turned onto another road. That guy was probably a pusher, and Steve, for once, really wasn't in the mood for a fight. But the boys hadn't gotten more than three steps before they stopped dead in their tracks.

The reason being, there was a person standing at the end of this street too and he was identical to the first one.

The shadowy figure seemed to notice Johnny and Steve. It slowly turned its head, and the head was the only thing that moved at all. The rest of the body stayed completely still, and Johnny knew something was wrong.

The eyes were a murky shade of black. There was no white, nor pupil. Solid darkness was all that lay beneath the pale lids.

The thing took a step towards them, and Johnny screamed, "RUN!!!"

The two guys ran until they reached the Curtis house, praying they wouldn't see another--- whatever the hell that was--- on the way.

A/N: So. There it is. PLEASE review, and you'll have the joy of knowing you made me smile!
Good Night Fan Fiction Dot Net!!!