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    Wolffang
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Etulas - 1. Chapter 1

I'm floating. My body suspended in a sea of unconsciousness. Gentle waves lap at my sides drawing me from the depths. I vaguely become aware of each sensation. It feels as though my soul is gradually returning to my vessel. As the out of body sensation ceases, I groan. Suddenly aware of the throbbing pain stemming from my temple. I slowly open my eyes adjusting to unfriendly walls of a dimly lit room. I raise my hand to gently caress the side of my head, upon contact I'm met with a sharp pang. I hiss in protest. My fingers are slightly warm and wet. Unable to clearly make out the liquid, I rub my thumb and index finger together feeling the thick yet runny substance roll between the tips. I raise it to my nose, it crinkles in response to the familiar metallic smell.

“Blood”, I mumble

“Yeah, that'll leave a scar”, an indistinct voice chuckles.

“Whose there?!?” I blurt out, trying to find the origin of the voice. I take notice of a silhouette leering at me.

“I'm not afraid of you. So why don't stop playing games and just come out?” I assert. Eyes never leaving the apparition as it moves into the light.

“Very well it says.” it says.

I study it taking note of the emerging features of the being. Long hair flows plentifully, curling to frame sharp beautiful features which are accompanied by a distinguishable fierce-looking indentation across the left eye.

“You.” I state. My eyebrows crease in recollection.

The smell of cinnamon rolls flooded the street as I zoomed by the bakery on my way home. Mr. Michaels makes the best cinnamon rolls... In my extremely biased opinion. It was an average day and I rode my bike home from the park as I normally did on sunny Sundays. I could already picture my father outside, on his rocking chair, with a glass of whisky in his hand, admiring the scenery as the day slowly morphed into night. The tree's branches shook with the hot summer breeze, adding a slightly plant-like scent to the already heavily infused aroma of the little street I called home.

The street was quiet as usual, not a soul in sight. The houses, lined neatly next to each other, coexisted in the comfortable silence. All of them unfenced, unbothered by the violence that haunted our screens every night during the evening news. The walls were all painted in cool shades of grey, white and pastel blue, blending together to create a collage of calm. Everything was as it should be. Well...almost everything.

As I got closer to the top of the hill I noticed a shadowy figure to my left. Its mud brown cloak obscured its features making the shadow-like person unidentifiable. It turned towards me as it heard me coming and something at its neck caught the sunlight and blasted it back in my face, blinding me for a few seconds. I stopped peddling to shield my eyes and when I looked back up the figure had disappeared. I looked around frantically, a bewildering fear grasping at me. I raced down the hill, consumed by the primal instinct of prey being hunted. My sixth sense yelled at me that something was behind me, so I whipped my head around only to be met with the lazy scenery of my cul-de-sac. Nothing and no one was there. Turning back around, I noticed something disappearing into a street at the end of the hill. Curiosity got the best of me so I passed my usual turn home and rode on till I reached the end of the hill. I turned into the little street and suddenly felt transported.

Night seemed to have seeped into this little street much sooner than all the others. It was a dead-end street, completely dark and deserted save for a pair of eyes that seemed to glow. They were a piercing white, with bright, purple, cat-like irises that were fixated on my every move. Despite the better 99% of me screaming for me to turn around and ride back home, that 1% was strong enough to persuade me to get closer. I was walking in completely blind, guided only by the eyes that never left mine. I stared at them, afraid to blink in case I lost them and was trapped in this infinite darkness forever. The more I looked, the closer I got and the brighter they seemed to glow. There was a sudden meow that erupted through the air, echoing in a silence so profound that it seemed to amplify the sound. It rang in my ears, dizzying me till the eyes formed a hypnotic spiral in the blackness. I closed my eyes against the wave of pain I felt coming from the very back of my head and just like that, darkness consumed me. It felt like I was falling. I landed with a thud.

A sweet earthy scent.The sensation of foliage beneath me. A sky that was as blue and mysterious as the ocean. I wondered if I was delirious. I swear I had seen two suns. A clicking, the sound only a weapon would have made. I was too sore to move so I lay there.

" Is he awake?" a voice asked.

" I dunno." another responded

" Are we sure he set it off? He's just a human after all."

" Never underestimate a target." The voice of the female commanded. I slowly tried to force myself up. Long dark hair that curled to frame her features and that indistinguishable scar over the left eye. I wasn't mistaken. Before I was able to say anything she had hit me with the back end of her weapon, knocking me out where I would awaken to face my current predicament.

copyright(2020) (Rosario, Wolffang); all rights reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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