By the Light of the Moon

prologue - 0.5

     Our group is unlike any other- in the midst of the new fashion fads of the girls in highschool: the fluffy hair, mini skirts and tall boots, blue eyeshadow and big earrings- I'm the outlier, but I don't mind. I run with a very different crowd, and I feel that that's something to be proud of. Hell, I'm always told I'm "one of a kind" from my little clan of misfits.

     We're like a pack of wolves in many different ways, but the two main points being that, one, we have each other's backs like no other, and two, we are wild. My best friends are a bunch of boys with long, crazy hair, they wear leather, denim, and graphic tee shirts like a uniform, and play loud, metal music.

     There aren't any girls in our pack- mainly just chicks that come and go. They're always interested in the boys: intrigued by their dark mystique, romanticizing them in their heads before even speaking a word to them in real life. Then they run away screaming realizing that we aren't all for show- we're the real deal. The Bay Area thrash metal scene is a force to be reckoned with. Anyone that tests us learns that fact, and they learn it fast.

     It never takes long for people to question my permanence in the group, "How the hell does a girl fit in here?", or "How can she stand a chance to run with these wild dogs?" I try to put it nice and simple, in ways they can understand- but usually the boys don't give me a chance to open up my mouth: fists are flying faster than I can say "No Life 'Til Leather".

     But honestly I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my boys, I love our scene, and to be honest, things couldn't get any better than this. We're just a bunch of wild kids trying to make it.