Part 1
- Origins -
The tavern was thick with smoke and the stench of cheap alcohol. Seldom words were exchanged between the regular patrons, most of which had already passed out drunk, spilling their drinks onto the moldy wooden floor. The crash of the door came in sync with that of the thunder, making it unnoticeable to most. Following the crash was a man with torn clothes, covered in blood and mud, limping on the ground. The man's words were barely audible, his voice grasping for air, trembling and speaking through the sound of the heavy rain outside, the man's last word was "werewolf". Not a soul in the tavern helped the poor man.
The following day, the mayor of the fair town of Forks, WA. gave a speech in front of town hall to calm the restless sea of people who had come to complain of werewolf attacks. Throughout his speech it was painfully obvious that he had no idea what was going on. Suddenly a voice echoed through the courtyard.
"Lyncans" voiced a man wearing a black leather jacket and wayfarer sunglasses, loading a double barreled sawed-off shotgun "If you want to get rid of them you talk to me"
"Who are you?" demanded the mayor "And what do you know about lyncans?"
"Well for one, I fight them" Said he before pulling down his jacket's sleeve, revealing a deep scar of werewolves claws covered in a fine, thin silver dust, making him quite "sparkly" in the sunlight. "I'll get your Lyncans, all I need is a motorcycle and some ammunition."
"I suppose we could arrange this, but tell us, what do we call you?"
"You an call me Edward. Edward Cullen."
No comments:
Post a Comment