Theory of a deadman

1 year latter

out of all of humankind's most treasured holidays it is Halloween that is humanity's most controversial holidays on the matter of belief. Most like to connect it faster to the day in which Satan was born however, the truth is the earliest mentions of this sacred holiday are from the early Celts. As each able body, townsfolk would carve pumpkins after a fall harvest and place them around their homes and gardens to ward off evil spirits and monsters. To some this might be the reason for the comparison, even so there are also sources stating this day is when the veil of the dead is the thinnest to our mortal world. At any case, this holiday should have been taking more seriousness than it is now in this modern day and age, or at least that is what I am to believe.

A year ago, I would be on the run after killing another creature of the night without any remorse or second thoughts. Those creatures either had been posing as human, or had just stuck to abrupt nightly kills for the fun of it. Never once thinking that some of those said creatures ever amounted more than that of the blood they spilt. A year ago, I was the youngest brother to a family of known Supernatural Hunters. In a small hidden community, we were humanity's last defender against the dark foul creatures people passed off as fiction. Then again, a year ago I was also a victim of random bouts of asthma and constant flu like sickness. That neither did my 'Father' or 'Brother Dean' had the time to take me to the hospital. Instead, we started a quest of sorts to find four holy relics that were lost in time. As far as I am aware dad, found a mythical kind of gun that shoots built that blessed. The Colt construction dated around 1901. According to father, it was supposed to have been one of the most powerful weapons of its time against the best of the night, along with human who dared trespass on holy ground. . I acquired the old book of David, which held the holiest of prayers said to bless to humanity. Thought How to access it I have not figured that part out just yet. A year ago, I once feared and never understood why the pull of the moon at night was so comforting, then the constant light of day like everyone else. A year ago, I was not known as a dead man, yet here I am alive and breathing mostly though it is debatable on for how much longer.

It was colder than it had been on most Halloweens in the past. A blood chilling crisp wind assaulted the poor patrons that dressed up on this Hallows Eve. Children walked the dim lighted streets with sinister looking mask not aware of the monsters and ghouls they as the portraying their innocent's. A little boy dressed up in an Assassin's creed costume laughed as he chased a little red haired girl in a knight's costume. It was times like these when the P.A.C.K. came to outlying country towns as if Minnesota falls that it was hard not to feel normal again. I watched from the bench that I had taken claim of for the best part of an hour. I knew I had to be somewhere soon, but for the love of the good book, I wanted to pretend in my mind's eye that for now I was just an innocent bystander, and not a part of what I once hunted. A little girl no older than nine in a little Bo Peep outfit and the most perfectly curled curls walked over to the bench. Her deep big brown bell eyes stared hard into green orbs. She could not have been no more than nine but what she said next blew my mind.

"Are you supposed be trick or treating at an old age? "The little sheep header asked as she shoved a piece of candy into her mouth. At first, I did not say anything to the young girl. After all, I did not want to attract too much attention before meeting up with the P.A.C.K. And a random Sixteen year old half transformed boy with raven hair and pointy ears in a blue Sex Pistols and hoodie was bound to draw attention Halloween or not. I may not have to worry about freaking people out on this day when half transformed but that did not mean it drew question.

"Well..." The little girl drawled out in an annoying tone little kids are notorious in doing. "Well what kid?" Apparently, she did not like the name kid as she proceeded to huff and whack me with her little pink shepherd stick. If she were not a little kid, I would have kicked her shines.