Eye of the Storm
- LECTURAS 56
- Votos 7
- Partes 5
Heather ran as fast as she could. If only she was not a werewolf. Heather was not the typical werewolf. She has powers, and Heather wasn't proud of it.
Heather's parents were after her. The dark werewolves had already destroyed her brother, ripped out his throat. Her grandmother, Stormi, stayed at home trying to heal her grandson. Heather knew it would not work.
The hurricane would not stop. It kept chasing Heather. It roared in anger. It was like it had a mouth that ate everything in it's way.
Heather could run no longer. She had run for a long time, way out of the werewolf state. Werewolves were not allowed to go out of the werewolf state. Heather ran for a few more seconds. She was right on the top of a cliff. Her legs felt like noodles. She closed her eyes, trying to remember her last moments with her brother and grandmother.
She howled in fear. The hurricane picked her up.
It has a baby bit of off language, but I hope you enjoy!
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#82
stormy
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My dream continued the one I'd been having for the past couple of nights. I ran, gasping for breath, through the familiar woods from a dark figure behind me. The faster I tried to run, the slower I seemed to go, until it was like I was running in place. I knew I needed to run. I was terrified of what the figure would do when he caught me. "Mara Leigh," a deep, smooth voice called. It was almost hypnotic. That was new. The figure had never spoke before now. I ran as fast as I could go, eyes searching the forest floor for a big stick or something that I could use to defend myself. "Mara Leigh!" the voice came again, this time more insistent. The forest slowly started to fade and I started to awake to someone shaking my shoulders. "Beau?" I mumbled, turning my head to the side. What's Beau doing in my room this time of night? Why is he shaking me? "Do not call me that name." My eyes flew open as I jumped at the voice from my dream. A face was right in front of mine, and just like the voice, it wasn't Beau. Before I could form a scream, a hand covered my mouth. I tried to bite it but I couldn't get my mouth to open. He's too strong. I started to use my whole body to try to get away, but he crawled on top of me, holding me down. I pulled the hidden knife out from under my pillow and slashed as hard as I could at him, but he just grabbed my wrist and squeezed it until the pain made me drop the knife. Then he grabbed both my hands in one of his and held them over my head. He held me down while I struggled. I grunted and moved and tried to kick and scream, but I only wore myself out. Exhausted, I stopped thrashing and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to prepare myself for whatever was coming.
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