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Through These Werewolf Eyes
“Ah!” I awaken breathless as I wake up from a terrifying nightmare.
“Shady! Come on, hurry!” Someone yells to me though I can barely see them I have a strange feeling they’re me. Suddenly, every single thing in sight turned dark. “Welcome to the bloody truth about your clan’s murder dear…” A dark yet sweet voice sang in my ear. That’s when I woke up.
CRASH... THUD… CRASH! ‘It appears that an intruder is giving me unexpected company and they probably just broke an antique vase or something.’ I wake out of my bed room and down the stairs after I grab my double-sided ax though. I never went anywhere without a weapon for one purpose and one only. The famous murder that everyone talks about, the Kytruubi massacre, is the reason.
A little five year old girl named Shady, black hair and crimson ends fall at the end of her back, with heterochromatic eyes, one a deep forest green while the other’s a dark violet. She strolled into her home late at night after here first shift of the full moon. As tired as can be she makes her way upstairs not sensing the unfamiliar presence lurking in the house. Being startled awake by a sudden scream come from a few rooms down from her own sends her running out the door toward the sound. The door quietly opens to reveal a masked figure standing over the corpses of her mother and father. She travels to the other rooms, all revealing the same thing, the corpses of her entire clan. As quickly as she can she runs to the nearest police station.
Ax at my side and a keen sense gives me and advantage. I walk into my living room using cautious steps and shallow breathing. As I walk in I see two men in all black, one big and fat while the other is smaller and chunky. I bring up the ax and slaw it into the wall as a warning to go away before I lose my temper and turn full fledge wolf. I hear one of them speak up. “So this is what the den of a werewolf looks like? No wonder no one can find ‘em.” The small one has sort of a lisp to his accent. “Oui, what are you doin’ here,” I say with an edge to my voice, “this is private property.” “Oh yeah? You and what army?” The big one retorts. “Who said I need an army? All I need is my ax.
The ax in my hand was gleaming from the moon light. It has a black handle. A red blade with the symbol of my clan embedded into it. “Heh, you think that pretty, little ax will do anything to us, Shady?” the dull one- no scratch that the chunk one emphasized my name thinking he’s all that can stop me. I gave a bored expression. “Are you finished yet cause I got things to do… like kicking your butt.” I said as fancy as a gentleman or gentle… woman? “Boy,” the fat one starts “you got a pretty weird name.” “I take offence to that. It’s been a tradition for my clan to name the third girl born every four generations to have a name related to anything dark or negative.” I with a as-a-matter-of-fact tone. The face he pulled reminded me of myself eleven years ago.
Crack! The familiar pain of the whip comes to my frail and weak seven year old body. I had already learned not to cry because that will just trigger her more. Just two years after my clan’s murder my step mom, the woman my father married after the death of my mother, started to hit me and make me clean everything. “Stupid mutt,” she growled in a low voice as so cracked the whip on my back again, “if it weren’t for you I could’ve been in your father’s will but no, everything goes to the mangy dog.” She whipped me again. Afterward she went to her room to go to sleep and her servants came and chained me up to a tree outside. People never helped either they were to afraid of the devil I had to call ‘mother’.
Thud! I just sent the large one into the wall knocking him out cold. It just dawned on me that as I was fighting the other person fled the scene. “Well, crap. It looks like I have to move…again.”
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