Practice Writing A-8: Fire Hawk

Writing Practice(s): File A-8 Date Published: 11:21, 8 April 2013 (Minnesota Time) Category: Action/Horror/Drama Title: Fire Hawk

Writing Practice(s): File A-8

Category: Action/Horror/Drama

Title: Fire Hawk

 

      The filthy petty thief was thrown onto the cold concrete ground. His body was trembling and his forehead was wet perspiration and his eyes swirling pools of raw fear.

      “Please! I’m s-sorry! I’ll leave! I’ll stay off of your territory! Just please! Let me go!” he pleaded, trembling in terror at the thought of locking eyes with the vicious Fire Hawk, whose eyes were rumored to burn with a lethal green fire that was just as horrific and agonizing as the infernos of hell itself.

      “It’s not their territory,” shouted a rough and unforgiving female voice into the darkness of the abandoned warehouse.

      The petty thief jerked his gaze in the direction of the voice and sunk down into the ground trembling as if all of hell had been unleashed upon him. The two thugs from before stepped back as if fearful themselves and hid in the shelter of the shadows.

      A tall and lean figure appears at the top of the shadowy pile of rubble and scrap metal before him. His eyes widen in terror as he stares in a pair of fiery green eyes.

      “It’s my territory,” she snarled viciously and bared her ferocious pallid teeth.

      The petty thief collapsed to the ground on his knees out fear. The rumors of the Fire Hawk had not been exaggerated in the least. Her eyes glowed a blinding fiery green in the darkness and burned away at his mind and being. It almost felt as if an actual fire was in his brain and was tearing away at it like rabid carnivore tearing away at a carcass.

      She slid down the mountain of scrap metal and stepped up to the filthy pick-pocket, grabbing him by his shirt collar and lifting him off the ground, forcing him to stare into her menacing fiery green eyes.

      “P-P-Please! I-I-I-I d-didn’t mean to s-steal on y-your t-t-t-terri-t-tory. Please! I p-promise I won’t d-do it a-again!” he stuttered as his entire body trembled in terror at the aggressive female wolf, fearful that she would do to him as she had done to so many others.

      She growled menacingly in the dim light, the eerie glow in her eyes seemed to brighten as it slashed through the darkness like headlights on a car in the middle of the night. And he was the deer caught in its terrifying glare, paralyzed with fear and unable to respond.

      “Hawk! We need to talk!”

She jerked her head in the direction of the voice and sighed in irritation.

“What do you want Stag?”

“I just wanna talk,” responded the voice as he stepped into the light. It was a tall dark grey wolf with a scarred throat and red bandana with yellowing teeth. Between his two fingers was a lit cigarette.

He blew out a puff of white smoke into the air. “I got a job for ‘ya,”

“Anything I would be interested in?” inquired the female rouge, still grasping the unrulely pick-pocket with fiery green eyes.

He stepped forward, the sound of his leather boots echoing throughout the discarded warehouse. “Is $500,000 dollars of any value to you?”

She paused for a brief moment and shrugged, throwing the petty thief into a pile of garbage bags. He groaned and put his hand to his head. Blood seeped through from a cut on his forehead.

“Now get out before I rip out your organs!” roared the female wolf and pulled out her knife in a dangerous threat.

The petty thief nodded quickly and frantically stumbled out of the warehouse and into the streets.

“And stay off my turf or I’ll kill ‘ya!”She shouted as he disappeared into the night. She slipped her knife back into its sheath and turned to the dirty gangster. The two had met in a bar when Stag had cheated at a game of poker with her (well, she had stolen his money afterwards, but that is beside the point) and ever since the two have been rivals.

He chuckled and took another whiff. “Temper, temper. You know he’s harmless,”

She put her hands on her hips and blew her black bangs out of her eyes. “And that means I’m supposed to go easy on him?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you ever considered anger management?”

She pulled out her Desert Eagle handgun and aimed it three inches from Stag’s forehead. He laughed and shook his head. She stared at him, unblinking and unimpressed. If he kept this up she very well would pull the trigger and take him out. After all, she knew where he kept his stash of cash and it would certainly do her and the boys some good to have a little on hand. She was planning on heading to college soon. Right after she made sure none of her police records were still accessible.

She fired it right above his head and he yelped in surprise. The rouge wolf smiled and put her gun back in its holster. Stag took a nervous whiff of his cigarette and quickly regained his composure.

“You didn’t think I was actually going to shoot you, did you?” mocked the female wolf, playing with the pocket knife in her hand.

He cleared his throat. “Knowing you, probably. It certainly wouldn’t be much of a stretch.”

She shrugged. “Good point. So what’s this about five hundred grand up for grabs?”

He coughed. “There’s some multi-billionaire coming into town and he’s bringing a very nice little piece of expensive history back with him. Nice little Egyptian pot or something worth $500,000. Interested?”

“Very. Continue.”

“Anyway, I was interesting in whether or not you would like to steal it together and split the money, oh say, fifty-fifty?”

She rubbed her chin in thought and eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you asking me to help you? You don’t need it and why would you split the money with me?”

“Simple; you’re better at not getting caught.”

“And?”

“He’s Anti-Wereian,”

“So?”

“Oh please, we all know you’re Pro-Wereian, why not just admit it?”

“Because I would rather shoot you,”

“And I would rather rape you, now are you in or not?” he extended the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette in irritated partnership.

She sighed and shook his hand grudgingly. “Fine. Where is it?”

“He’ll be driving through this alley tomorrow night. He thought coming in the evening would mean less chance of being robbed.”

The rouge wolf snickered and pushed her bangs out of her eyes. Her fiery green eyes glowed with an eerie and dangerous light.

“What a moron. Doesn’t he know wolves hunt at night?”

*****

      The she-wolf watched intently from the safety of the shadows as the limousine drove through the trashed alley. She would have laughed at his stupidity had it not been raining for the past two hours.

      This artifact had better be worth for Stag’s sake. Muttered the rouge she-wolf inside her own mind. If it wasn’t he was going to be the one to pay for it.

      “Now?” asked Nick, one of her male partners that she lived and stole with through the intercom in her point ear.

      “Wait for my signal.” She snarled and braced herself to launch forward.

      Feather...

      Her ears perked in surprise. Her eyes darted suspiciously from side to side before she returned her attention back to the limousine.

      You psychopath, you can’t escape from ME...

      She froze. She knew that voice. She knew it all too well.

      “Synkia...”

      So you haven’t forgotten about me then. I was worried you wouldn’t remember me...

      She almost laughed. How could you forget the demon that had tormented you for seven long years?

      Guess what? They know you’re here...

      “Who knows I’m here?” she muttered irritably. Her free hand twitched nervously at her side.

      You know who.

      Feather shook her head, not understanding what she meant.

      A demonic laughter exploded in her ears like a sudden flash of lightning in the middle of a quiet night. Her eyes widened in fear. She knew those laughs. They had come for her. Come to drag her down to hell itself.

      She shook her head in fearful denial. “No...”

      Yes. And no one can save you now you filthy psychopath!

      “No, I’m not crazy!” she shouted in a desparate plea.

      “Hey FH, what are ‘ya yelling about? You’re gonna give us away!”

      Of course you are. You killed your best friend, didn’t you?

      “No! No I didn’t! They killed her! It was the Desters! Please!” she screeched in desperation, pulling out her knife, preparing to fight them off. Even though she knew deep down it was futile.

      Just give in Feather...

      The demonic she-wolf materialized before Feather’s eyes. Dark clouds composed of whispering shadows snaked up her body, leaving behind the visible form of Synkia, the very same demon that had haunted Feather for seven long and agonizing years.

      She could have come in the form of a hideous monster, or a freakish combination of two horrifying animals, or a bloody fallen angel with torn black bat wings or as a skeleton with a scythe. But no, she had taken on the form of something much worse.

      Herself.

      She stared down at Feather with merciless and scorching fiery green eyes. Her figure and form was exactly like her’s. In every way. The dark red fur, the dirty blonde hair, the scarred legs, and worst of all the fiery green eyes.

      Feather lost her footing on the pipe she was perched on and plummeted to the concrete ground twenty feet below. The wind was rudely knocked from her lungs and cast out of her body by the sudden violent impact. She gasped for breath and looked up at the demonic figure that nobody else could seem to see. Her arms and legs struggled furiously to push her away from the demon that had taken on the form of her. Fear rose in her chest like an oncoming storm over the horizon.

      The predator had become the prey.

      “No! Get away from me!”

      You had your chance, you selfish psychopath! Now you pay the price!

      Seventeen shadowy and horrifyingly hideous demons rose at her sides, all of them mimicking her fiery green eyes, mocking her by reflecting her terrified form in their eyes.

      “No!”

      Time to DIE!!

      The hoard of demons rushed forward with extended claws and outstretched arms and open mouths full of jagged and rotten teeth to devour her with.

      “NOOOOO!!”

*****

      “NOOOOO!!” she screamed out, thrashing inside her thin and uncomfortable bed sheets, the chains that tied her ankles to the concrete wall rattled furiously. She sat up immediately, her fiery green eyes wide with terror at the nightmare. This was the third time she had had this dream. That horrific nightmare whose only purpose was to drive her completely insane.

      Her breathing came out in long and ragged frightened breaths, her painfully thin and trembling body slick with sweat. Her pounding heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest.

      She lifted her chained wrists and stared down at them with sad and pained eyes. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face, her lip trembling before she buried her head in her knees with a series of bitter sobs.

      “I’m not crazy, I’m not. Oh dear Lord, if you really are there, help me,” she whispered and sobbed harder, tightening her arms around her legs to make herself even smaller. Almost hoping that if she became small enough the cruelties of her sick reality would forget about her.

     

      My name is Feather, Feather Wolfheart. Everybody says I’m a psychotic criminal, so they put me in here. In hell. But I’m not crazy. I’m just...confused. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what the difference between right and wrong are. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who my friend is and who my enemy is. Do I even have any friends? I don’t even know anymore. If I do they must not care about me, if they would let such awful people put me in this horrible place. This place called hell. Left to die in a hole, chained to the walls and beaten till I can no longer move or feel. I miss the forest. I miss my daddy. I miss my sister, Storm. I miss the world, even if it doesn’t miss me. I want so badly to see it again. But I fear I never will. For I am trapped in this place called hell. Chained to the cold stone walls in a forgotten place. Never to be found again. But to forever remain as a caged bird with broken wings and a broken heart. I miss the world, even if it doesn’t miss me. I will fight to see it again. But I’m so scared. The demons beat me into the ground till I can no longer bleed. Rape me till I can no longer function. Torture me till I can no longer stay conscious. My name is Feather Wolfheart. And I am a caged bird with broken wings, forever trapped in this place called hell. Never to be remembered. Always to be forgotten. My name is Feather, and I am the forgotten soul who cannot escape. Escape from the jaws of hell. And that is how it will stay.