Mutants

Chapter 1: Elmy

The town of Maybee, Arkansas is the same as any old town. It used to be a huge tourist attraction. The main shops and restaurants of the town and a now abandoned hotel, line the Mississippi river. When the great depression hit, people stopped coming and the town was never brought back to its normal, thriving self.

Everyone in the town has a role to play and they play it quite well. We have our crazy old lady and our crazy old man, not related. We have our pretty perfect people, we have our rich, we have our poor, our alcoholics, our Brainiacs, and our numbskulls. We have it all. We have our small quiet girl who works in a bookstore and keeps to herself. Oh, wait, that's me.

I'm not bitter about it. I'm not bitter about my mother being dead and my father being in prison. I'm not bitter about my shitty foster parents. I'm not bitter. I'm accepting, I'm focused, and I'm determined. But I am not bitter. I forget to say things sometimes. I forget how to talk sometimes. Like my throat has a mind of its own. I forget to learn people's names, I forget to care.

The book store is rarely ever busy. On Mondays and Fridays there's tutoring that's the only time people show up. Because of its lack of customers, I have plenty of time to focus on school work but keep up with the shop. We have every book you could ever want. Books on ghosts, books on origami, books on books of origami ghosts. We have everything therefore I am never bored at work. The owner of the shop is a cute old woman who has devoted her life to books. Because of her illness, she rarely has time to come into the shop, that's why she hired me, a fellow book lover.

I turn on the radio and flip open my Trigonometry text book. The smell of books and coffee is inspiring. I barely noticed when the bell above the door rang as someone entered. He said something to me but the sound of a string quartet drowned out his voice. I quickly turned down the radio. He flashed a cheeky smile and repeated himself.

"Where's your supernatural stuff?" I recognized his voice. I've seen him at school. HE'S PERFECT BOY. I should really learn his name.

"Um, do you want fiction or nonfiction?" I asked quietly. I don't get to practice talking often.

"Nonfiction." I pointed to the back corner of the store.

"They're along the back wall." He stepped further into the store and I stepped back into the non-confusing world of math.

"Do you mind showing me?" He asked, his eyes glinted gold. No, they flashed gold. I stepped out from behind the counter. He followed me to the back corner. I was somewhat nervous; this amount of conversation is a bit much for me.

"What are you looking for?" I asked once we reached the small section that contained nonfiction ghost stories A.K.A bullshit.

"Mutant Hunters." He said with complete seriousness. I stifled a chuckle. "What," he sensed my lack of faith in the supernatural studies, "do you not believe in mutants?" Perfect boy almost sounded offended. The book caught my eye, I reached to grab it but I was too short. My fingers skimmed the edge of its leathery spine. Perfect boy laughed at my struggle and grabbed the book.

"They exist." He said convincingly, his eyes flashed gold again.

"I'm sure there are people who hunt them but that doesn't mean they exist," my tone and volume was still shy. He shoved the book at me.

"Just look." I opened the book. It looked hand written and old.

Mutant Hunters

Mutant Hunters are immune to the powers of immortal Mutants as well as mundane Mutants. The difference between mundane and immortal is that immortals are strong born mutants and mundane are forced powers. Mundanes can get their power from spells or magical objects.