Not suitable for young readers. Please tell me what you think, but no flames, 'cuz this is my first real fiction story and I will TRY to stay dedicated to it.
Not all weapons are created equal - and she was no ordinary one. She fed on feelings, and yet, they were also her weapon. Absorbing all feelings, happy and evil alike, she turned them all dark - that was her food, energy, strength, and whatever life she had. Easily, she could pour just a bit of that pot of darkness into anyone's mind and send them screaming in agony to their death slowly. She needed nothing but emotions, which made the human race easy prey - she needed nothing else, no one else. It is rumoured that she was once a human who had a rare disease that created problems in her life - now she knocks off humans one by one, stopping for and stopped by nobody. However, she may look normal to humans, yet the only people who can say for sure are... in no condition to tell us. But no more. The Dark Angel has met her match - this is... the end, finished by the traditional battle. Where humankind's fate is on the line. But absolutely no person or thing, the Dark Angel least of all, would have guessed that she would be stopped... by a human child.
Well, well, what have we here? She paused, smirking confidently. Following her natural instincts, she traced dark feelings to a young man, 16 or 17, sitting on a park bench. He sat there gloomily, his hands stuck in his pockets, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't even lift his gaze when the small feet were directly in front of him. If you had been looking, his brown eyes were suprised for a moment, then suddenly blank and emotionless. The Dark Angel worked slowly, silently, almost regretful that no one would admire her skills. Almost.
Without warning, the young man clutched his head and threw it back, and opened his mouth to scream, but no sound was emitted. His eyes were wide and glazed over with pure stricken terror, nearly bloodshot under the dim golden street lights, his weak legs awkwardly hanging off the edge of the cold wood and twitching from extreme pain. He gasped as though ready to spit blood, yet no sound or substance came out of his mouth. Surprise was barely hidden behind his deep brown eyes, like chasms and just as dark, shielded though they were by matching bangs. An image etched into his mind, though he had not enough sanity left to comprehend it: the face of a young girl.
Well? It's short, I know... I wanted it to be mysterious sorta prologue. Please review, but no flames!