Chapter One "Bad Feeling"A Chapter by TrisIntroduction to my novel, In the End.
Since my specialty was stealth my interest would be understandable, but still reckless. That should be Wolf's job since I was four- to keep me out of danger. He was my companion and an important part of my family since then. I usually found it amusing that his name was Wolf, since it was just like an profanity. Of course, it was fitting, since he was half wolf combined with husky, his fur perfectly white even in this dirt and his eyes light marine blue. Lucky me that he was trained since I knew him, because he was much bigger than an normal canine and much too strong for me to handle. He was almost as big as my about five feet five. We didn't saw any normal dog in many years, but I’m sure he was not an normal one even for his breed. And God! His head looked so big as he sat in the passenger seat, his tongue outside the open window. Yet, whoever was driving didn't complain. Sort of a father figure. And yes, he taught us all of it- how to fight, how to defend and many more. He always had patience with us. Just like an father to his beloved family. As always he began his blindman's holiday ritual- folding his hands like he was praying. He didn't really believed in God, not since the Dark Creatures or The §trix's began their war upon the shape shifters or, as they called themselves, The ¤men's. Yes, the nightmares and horror stories got to life and since then the human race was damned. Many people were dead even before they realized those were. Anyway, he never told us anything about Him. Just single words that he said in his short sleep time. Only once had he said that "God couldn't have sent Those." Just thieves and mercenaries. None of us belonged there. Still, wandering like that was lethal to too many of us. After our end. "Ella, get ready!” I looked instantly at the 19 year old boy. His curly copper-colored hair was messy after he slept in the arms of his soul mate- Amy. I could see the little beard he had on his chin. He wore cargo pants in army colors and an black t-shirt. As I saw the large, dirty book on the car floor I knew what he wanted. "I would like you to take a look at this." He always believed that knowledge could save us; therefore he read anything he could find. As he gave me the first storybook he could find, I was mesmerized by the words that flew through it, so he taught me to read faster. It was nice to know that we could create and imagine perfect worlds’ where good always prevailed, unlike this one. I looked in his blue eyes, such blue I never had a view of before, and saw that he was tired. Then I realized that he had just wakened up. I knew the feeling- if I found a great book I would not sleep until I did not finished it. As I looked at the book closer I saw it was about a war. A second glance told me that it was about this war. He thought he could find the weakness of the enemy or at least stop the war and make peace. I didn’t believe that Those could or would make peace. Yet, nor did I believed that he would call me by my chosen nickname, not by my “birth name”. When I looked at Amy, the tiny girl with short, light brown hair. Her jeans were light blue with white spots and the t-shirt she wore was orange. Her green froglike eyes were full of worry for Trystan. I knew that she was the only motive that Trystan ate and slept frequently. Sometimes he was so caught in his books that he won’t sleep even for days long. Yet, he obeyed her every time. My sight caught her hand trying to soothe his hair and to calm him. I knew it was just a sign of her love, since he was always the most calm of our “family”. Every time was he the one with the plan, the plan B or with the tactics. He always found the hidden thing we could use and always reassured us that we could prevail. So he was the one to calm others. Not that his hair could be anyway soothed, since it was just wiry; it arranged itself like it would please. I always saw Trystan as my big brother and As I looked behind me, my sight caught the most melancholy seeing. It was not a scene of war, but an teenager preparing his rifle in the other corner of the cargo. The boy had more or less long hair arranged braid like, his skin lighter than a mulatto’s one. His very dark brown eyes- easily confused as black ones- could not be seen, since his attention was nowhere to be found. He wore as pants a textile like jean, but black and more baggy. His t-shirt was long and also black. As I looked at his hidden face I could see some dark brown beard starting from his ear. It continued just at an little on his cheek. All of us knew what Samuel had experienced. We all knew what had happened just in front of his house as he was just an baby. But as he ended in one of those last human places, the worst began. I hated to see him this way. He never learned to be with other people and it was hard for him to accustom being loved. Most it hurt me that Zoe had to see him this way. Her long dark red hair was hanging lifeless because of his pain. And we knew that he was in pain. At first we tried to help him out of it, but we didn’t succeed. I looked in her brown eyes and saw that she was keeping the tears to shed out. She knew it would only hurt him more. She didn’t even go to him in these moments because she knew that he would ache because he couldn’t return her unconditioned love. He did love her and she did it in return, yet his heart was too full of rage and need of revenge. As I saw a glimpse of his dark eyes, I could say his soul bled. I wanted him to stop. If not for us, the family where he belonged, then for Zoe. She bled for him too. I looked back at Trystan and did not saw what I expected. His eyes were focused above my left shoulder. Normally he would be looking at me waiting so that I would be going to him so he could share it with me. More surprising was he looked confused. As I followed his sight, I saw the dark-blond haired boy dressed in some three-quarter pants and a t-shirt. You could see his hard, big feet muscles. His short hair was moving in the steady, yet cold wind. We all knew he was one of Hitler’s so called “perfect race”, but no one accused him because of it. It was not his fault what Hitler had done, what he had unbound in his quest for power. I knew what Benjamin was like- ready to sacrifice himself for others. I searched for his light blue eyes- sky like ones-, yet I could not see them. He was looking through the binoculars somewhere far away on the path we followed. I was surprised to see he was not looking at Jessica. The helpless girl sat on her back with her eyes closed- I knew she didn’t sleep because of the tears she shed in the very moment. Her light blond hair was full of life when we were kids and played in the grass of our gardens. I longed to see her light brown eyes- butterscotch like- laughing, but they haven’t done it in years. She grew up with her mother alone- his father never returned from the World War II- until she was 9 years old. In one horrifying night, as they were in the center of the town, the nightmarish creatures came to them and caught her mother. It was obvious what happened to her, therefore she didn’t eat nor speak. When we found her, 4 years before, she was very deafly. We forced her to eat, but she didn’t respond. Trystan said she was catatonic when he saw her. He explained to us that she was closing her brain from the world. It hurt me to see my best friend in this state. I remember when she laughed and talked and played with me in an world without monsters. I couldn’t explain in words how I missed her- the real her- every moment. I knew Benjamin loved her since he saw her. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked to her. But now he wasn’t. And I couldn’t say why. Everybody’s sight was turned to him, apart of As I looked at A battle awaited for us. © 2009 TrisAuthor's Note
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Added on March 31, 2009AuthorTrisBrasov, RomaniaAboutWell, I like writing fiction, thrillers and somewhat horrors. I've began my own novel with vampires and werewolves, so you might wanna check it out :D I'm writing since I remember and always liked to.. more..Writing
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