Shadowtown- The Wolf's Domain

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Summary

Status:
Work in progress
Chapters:
3
Rating:
n/a
Age Limitation:
13+

Chapter 1

Even in the end of it all, the last day of my life here on this planet, no one noticed me. I guess the black coat, or the knife that glinted in the smog covering the sky wasn't enough to attract me any attention, unwanted or not. I wasn't the most interesting person about, and I certainly looked dangerous enough to be avoid by all, which was my plan.

If I could make it through one more day, one night, and then an hour, I'd be free of this awful place. Coldstone had always been the poorest of the poor. Grimy streets, and burned out lamps didn't exactly make for a pleasant place to live.

Even so, Idera had loved it here. But then again she could see the beauty in anything, even the black slush in the gutter. Ariel, I scolded myself, You don't think about Idera, Moma, or Dado!

I fought back tears, there was nothing left for me here, not even them. They were gone, cold, and buried in some plot of land. I would have to let them go, along with the rest. Tomorrow I'd be leaving Coldstone, forever. I would be traveling to Shadowtown.

Shadowtown was a new establishment, farther from Mother Earth then here, but better. Even if I hadn't grown up there it already felt more like home then Coldstone.

I turned on to W. Drivelen RD and stopped at apartment complex 5. I sighed as I opened the door. I stomped off my boots, and shook out my wavy black hair that everyone in Coldstone seemed to share. No one stopped to talk, they didn't care about me, or anyone else that wasn't their family. My moma use to say that it was a miracle that Coldstone's citizen's could reproduce at all. Some miracle alright.

I entered my living unit, one bedroom, and a bath. The electricity had stopped months ago, but I still had a habit of flipping the switch when I came in.

"Time to pack," I muttered to myself, as I took of my cloak and dropped it on the chair. I only had a ratty old bag, but it would be enough to hold my few belongings, and then some.

Dado's chess board, and the pieces, his pipe, and his eyeglasses. Moma's three books, one of poetry, another of maps of the worlds, and the third of philosophy, then her ring, and clock. Idera's drawing pad and pencils, her dried flowers, and patched up dog.

Then my stuff. My deck of cards, the music sheets, and the pouch with the blood stone in it. I added some clothes, but that was it, everything else would be left for the next renters, well except for the cat, Sorrel. She'd be coming with me.

Sorrel was a tabby cat that my sister and I had found when I was seven, and she was five. We had talked our parents into letting us keep her, even though we didn't have the money for it. Sorrel's eyes hadn't been open.

"Here Sorrel," I called, one green eye, and one brown peered up at me. I smiled and Sorrel launched into my arms. Idera had always been better with her, but my baby sister was in the hard cold ground now, so it was just Sorrel, and me.

I put Sorrel on the bed, and climbed in next to her. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. The sooner I got out of this dying town the better. With that I roll over and fall asleep.


I stood at the graves in a black coat, scarf, and pants. Seven year old Idera snuggles closer to me, and my hand grips hers.

Talia Restneel Hector Restneel March 15, 4089 August 1, 4089 June 20, 5028 February 28, 5025

Moma had died two days ago, and Dado three years ago. "What now?" Idera asks, her tiny puffs of breath freezing in the wind."Now we start again, and this time no one will die. I promise," we turn, to walk away, but am met by a new grave.

Idera Restneel May 3, 5021 November 17, 5032

I turn to Idera to make sure she's there, but instead of my sister, I find her rotting corpse. She glares down at me as I fall backwards. "You promised!" she screeches. And reaches out her hand. It closes around my eyes, and starts to squeeze.


I awake freezing, Sorrel snuggles closer to me, as pet her, trying to calm my racing heart. I was thirteen when Idera died at age eleven. I was now fifteen, and I still had nightmares. I'm still not sure why the sickness called Creeping Death spared me, but not them. Well, me, and Sorrel at least. With no chance at getting back to sleep I pick up Sorrel and hug her, telling myself it'll all be alright. I'm leaving, I'm leaving this rotting place for good.


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