Hey everyone. This is my first fantasy story on Fic Press. Just want to know if this little piece appeals to you, and if you'd want me to carry on with this, please drop me reviews! Thanks. =]
[This story is based on Werewolves and black magic.]
I held my breath and watched the silver spirits mourn.
There were only three of them, but their cold, transparent presence seemed to press onto me, pushing me away from them and deeper into the forest lurking behind me. The largest of them – the leader, I presumed – was floating towards the centre of the little clearing. I noticed he had a rich purple aura – the colour of royalty – surrounding him. He was definitely in charge.
But it wasn't just his spiritual exterior that made me realise he was a leader. I sensed a strong vibe coming from him in all directions. The air around him felt strong and resilient. And though spirits in general were not physically formed, this particular leader had a certain stride – detectable through the way he drifted – that was nothing but pride and fury.
The two spirits wept as their leader brushed his hand against the bloody ground.
I crushed the little smudge stick, clenched in my fist, to my chest, hoping the freshly ground sage leaves would calm my racing heart, and quieten my rising sobs.
Then the leader froze. I stifled a gasp at the sound of the ferocious snarl that escaped his mouth. The ground shook violently all around me. The ancient willow trees started swaying to and fro. What was happening? My eyes darted everywhere around me, looking for anything that wasn't shaking aggressively; I crouched under a large bush I had found, clinging onto its smooth vines. Then I heard a growl. And it was the sound of an animal. A very large animal, my mind whispered.
I sensed the paws – maybe of some kind of bear – treading softly through the quaking clearing, growling very softly. My eyes flashed towards the spirits and their small funeral ritual, but I couldn't make out their foggy shapes; the leaves and dancing branches were blocking my view.
I cried now, too scared to think of being discovered by the half-beings or the beastly animal that slinked closer and closer to where I was hiding. I looked down at my grazed hands. The sage leaves fluttered from underneath my fingertips, and now my empty hands burned. My black hair swirled lividy around me, my body quaking within as black spots began to penetrate my vision. I trembled violently. I could not breathe.
Something was coming...and that something howled long into the moist night, as if in unfathomable pain.
I tried to move further from where I was growing unconsious, but my feet were as frozen as the sky was black.
I looked up at the night sky. Somehow, through the black, blinding spots that obscured my vision, little stars broke through, shining brilliantly against the pitch-black of the howling night. Then the stars faded. My eyes went hollow. I fell slack against the vines tangled up with my limbs.
I heard another growl.
So yeah. Thats basically the edited little Preface for Ash. A story about black magic, and avenging Werewolves.. Lemme know whatcha think! Thanks! x
(Also, lemme know what you want to happen in the story. I'd LOVE to hear your ideas, and it would be a massive help since I haven't planned every specific event, yet. :P)