THE HAUNTING HOUR, MALIA TATE
chapter zero — the disturbance

          "NO,  SCOTT.  I swear I saw something crawl up from out of its grave!" A slight high pitched voice shrieked at their phone as they navigated their way through their towns cemetery.  The night had been stormy for a couple of hours,  hard rain pour and loud thunder was most of the towns individuals experience.  Stiles Stilinski,  the voice,  had sworn he saw a figure hunched over a gravesite when he was driving back from his friends,  Scott McCall,  house.  He nearly crashed into a nearby tree doing a double take,  slamming on his brakes and putting the car into reverse,  hoping to see who or what the figure was.  "Ever since you defeated the Darach and became alpha,  shits been getting weird," Stiles noted,  squeezing the phone in between his right ear and shoulder a little harder as he rounded the back of his car to find a flashlight,  "Like,  just last night,  I swore I put my lacrosse stuff on my bed.  I spent hours looking for them,  only for it all to be in the closet.  You know I don't put my lacrosse equipment there,  man".

          ON THE OTHER END of the line,  Scott McCall was half asleep.  The teen boy wasn't getting enough sleep the past couple of days,  just brushing it off as the previous events that had taken place with the Alpha Pack and Jennifer Blake.  Of course,  his best friend would have an alternative diagnosis to his behavior and chalk it up to something supernatural.  Like,  a disturbance in the supernatural order,  potentially warning him of a new threat.  Scott just wanted to sleep (he needs it) and couldn't handle hearing Stiles anxiously ramble on about the "supernatural occurrences" going on,  somehow tying everything back to their ex-psychotic English teacher.

          "LOOK,  STILES,  I gotta go.  I'm exhausted and my Mom will have my head if I don't get a wink of sleep," Scott grumbled from the other side of the line,  harshly rubbing at his face as he sat on the edge of his bed,  back facing the window.  A small,  but very dramatic,  gasp echoed from Stiles' end,  giving Scott the response he needed before abruptly hanging up the phone call and sighing as he fall backwards onto his soft bed.

          STILES STILINSKI DIDN'T get an opportunity to answer before he saw something shift in the corner of his eye,  flashlight quickly following.  Phone still up to his ear,  Stiles turned towards where he witnessed the disturbance and nearly shat himself at the sight his flashlight presented.  Just a few meters in front of him was a girl approximately around his age,  shaking and covered in mud as she crouched in front of a headstone.  The teen boy screamed as the girl turned towards the light,  hissing in pain as her eyes adjusted to the harsh light.  The scream also startled the girl as she jolted back and landed on her back as a result.

          "OH,  WILL YOU SHUT up!" The girl croaked out,  getting annoyed with the teens behavior in front of her.  "Oh my god," the boy murmured,  shock plastering onto his ever paling face,  "You're...you're a – a talking zombie!" he loudly exclaimed,  throwing his arms up and crossing his left and right index fingers to form a cross in front of him.  The dirtied girl practically growled at the boys words,  standing up on two legs as to approach him.  "What the absolute fuck are you on?" She shrieked,  body shaking from the cold and anger.  Whatever was going on,  the girl couldn't believe it.  Poor thing woke up in a coffin,  buried alive,  had no clue as to what was going on,  covered in mud,  and is freezing cold.  And this boy has the audacity to scream and continuously shine his flashlight in her face.

          "I SAW YOU COME up from your grave!  Back from the dead!  You're a zombie!" Stiles began shouting as he held the finger cross higher and began to back away from the girl.  Furious wasn't an accurate enough of a word to describe how the girl was currently feeling.  Enraged.  Infuriated.  Fuming.  Whatever you called it,  she was definitely boiling over with it.  "Is this some kind of sick joke?  Did you put me here?  Were you the one that buried me alive?" She questioned,  cornering him once he finally toppled over a gravestone.  Heat seemed to radiate off of her body as she stepped closer and closer to the unidentified teen,  towering over him in anger.  "I have no clue what you're talking about man!  I haven't even seen you a day in my life!" Stiles exclaimed,  clutching both his phone and flashlight to his chest as he gazed up at the girl,  gulping.

          THE GIRL HUFFED BEFORE noticing a familiar name on the headstone a couple of feet to her right.  She shifted her head to get a better look at whose name it was scribbled onto the gravestone.  The breath in her lungs promptly left and rendered her speechless as she recognized her own name engraved on the headstone.  Tripping over her own feet on the way there,  the girls dirt cladded fingernails softly ran over the engravings.

          MARCELINE J.  STARKEY, July 10, 1987 to August 6, 2003. Dead. Deceased. Gone. Passed away. Just like that. Marceline Starkey had been dead for who knows how long and the only thing she could remember was making her way home from a friends house to waking up in a coffin and having to dig herself out of it.

STILES WAS RIGHT. There has been a disturbance in the supernatural order in Beacon Hills, California and the dead girl standing in front of him may be the reason why.

(  AUTHORS NOTE!  )
— finally wrote the first chapter 🤭
technically it's the "zero" chapter
& is kinda like a prologue but still,
it's been updated 🤠