Thursday, March 25, 2010

Werewolf_Titanium anesthetics

Her sixteenth birthday, their first one together. He had woken up early and dashed to her home. Up the tree and into her window. Creeping past her as she slept cozily and then locking the door. He then seated himself on the floor waiting for her to open her eyes. The silliest thing really. But his tiny little cranium had pondered over the details diligently and efficiently for the past one week. The rubber soles, the note he had left to his parents, everything had been worked out. The thought of involving James had crossed his mind but he was afraid he would only pull his leg. He chuckled at the thought of what he would say now. His father’s old watch glistened in his hands. It struck six. The birds started their routine with a melancholy call. She stirred but didn’t wake up. He looked out the window. A couple of joggers in dark blue passed by. The morning gloom welcomed him. A cool breeze running over that dull faced of serenity. He then watched her getting impatient for her to rise. When would she wake up he thought? He couldn’t disturb her sleep. She looked so content. In black striped white pajamas with so many Pluto the dog characters yapping in them. How she loved that yellow dog he thought. He watched her bare tummy rise and fall and nearly laughed. Maybe she was feeling cold he concluded. So as silently as he could he pulled her shirt down to cover her engaging little tummy. He then covered her with a bed sheet. Another big Pluto on it now with Mickey standing beside him grinning ear to ear. She tilted towards her right exposing that black mole on her left. He remembered thinking to himself; she is my best-est friend, even more than James.
Even as he slept in the fish house devoid of consciousness he still smiled. A distant noise somewhere rumbled audibly
“Having pretty dreams are we?”
And then he thought to himself, you bet.
A week passed as did the next and the next. He slept druggedly having spasms of brief consciousness. One night he woke up. A fallacy in the drug dose had been encountered. And he was blank. It’s not very often that one notices that the mind is nearly dead. It’s not very often that the mind takes a nap. And when it does all that remains is nothingness. His senses were prudent his body aware of touch, smell, sight and sound. He was stiff and alert as one is in the trauma of fear. But he wasn’t fearful. Merely lost and disheveled. Outside three voices purred fighting for control. One was that of a woman, judging by the pitch, one not used to being ignored, very cocky. One was heavy almost brute like as if an animal were speaking, the third belonged to his master. He remembered it because of its appearance in the dreams.
Master: He isn’t ready.
Woman: Oh give him a chance for Christ’s sake. You have had him drugged for nearly a month now.
Animal: He is just another one of those wolves. He belongs at the Fallow.
Master: He will not go the Fallow. Ever. And you have my word for that.
Animal: But why the special treatment?
Woman: Because he is stronger than most of us. It doesn’t take time to sense that kind of power Tiny. And it takes an eternity for it to be born. Accept it.
Animal: You falsify yourself. I pity you.
Master: If I am wrong I will be-head him myself.
Animal: it would be too late when you realize. I have no more to say. But I do wish to test him myself before I let you fuel this haste.
Master: There is a long time before that happens. Any of that. He needs time.
Woman: I ask you to reconsider sire. Maybe he should be updated on his uh…scenario. Just once.
Master: I have. A million times. This being is disturbed. He needs peace before he chooses sides.
His head started pounding. A pain started at his heart and led its way into all his arteries. His anguish sounded the trumpet. By the time it subsided, the werewolf had been summoned.
He stood on his fours and scrutinized the door. Something was coming his way. Fast. Metal clanked against metal as the irrepressible sound of titanium blades grew stronger and louder. Sparks danced in the doorway tempting to be countered. He watched as if in glee of the incoming. They came close and stalked him as a lion fore plays his prey. Swords. Sharp ones, brutal but not fatal, not to him and he knew it. They inched closer. He merely blinked. He blinked again. and again. Closer. He blinked one last time and this time his hands were lightening quick as they took hold of the metal and he plunged with all his weight into the creature guiding them. Together they fell into the sand. One of the swords were snatched and thrown afar. The other slashed methodically right in front of his face being the only defense. A pain developed in his abdomen as he got ready to bite. Canines closed distance with meat and would have ridden themselves but had the sword let them. It glazed in his eyes as it aped a running wheel. Eyes met and raged.

A cry cautioned them to stop.

As if in a trance his grip loosened and the creature beneath him was freed. It kicked him in the scrotum and shied away. He stood on his rear legs and howled.
He felt a pat on his back as his master exclaimed “Tiny, I see you have met Adam.”

The woman spoke up, “Not bad I see.”

Master: “Adam cover yourself and then meet us outside.”

They walked into the beach the three elite. As they watched the first rays of the sun greeted them.

He walked towards them hungrily. Although he was still blank and had no idea what was happening, his gut gave him the lead.
Slowly the guests as the master had termed them in the air borne chat they were having turned to him.
His master stood in the center and winked at him. On his right was a man clad in a black robe that melted on the ground. His hair was unruly and shaggy as he set it in place. Once done his hair looked like a double sided prism. The handles of his swords stuck out weirdly behind him forming a V at the back of his head. On the left was a pretty little thing with the face of an angel. She had flaming red hair that complemented the white robe that she sported. That robe was peculiar he thought. It flowed with the wind like torn muscles in water. on the whole though it gave a very feminine yet pulsing with the masculinity of a certain warrior.

His master introduced them, this son is Tiny. They starred daggers in response as Tiny grinned.

”I left my mark didn’t I?” He then glanced at his abdomen which started hurting.

At first he was surprised that the little man could cause pain with mere staring till he realized there was a dagger inside him. Nonchalantly he took it out and studied it. The sight of his own blood made no difference to him. It was just blood now.
Master then turned to the woman.
“This is…”
The woman waved him off “No need for that.”
She stepped in front of him offering her hand as the other found the abdomen “I am Jade.”.
The pain left and all that was left was a cool sensation where the dagger had been.

He took the hand and kissed it out of reprimand. This woman wouldn’t have it otherwise his master told him. She was the Goddess of not merely beauty but anesthetics and drugs as well. And not quite apparently, she was the reason he was awake.