Protector
1692
-BANG-
-CRACKLE-
Flames engulfed my surroundings; I had no knowledge of how the flames came to be. One second I'm dreaming a very odd dream about me running wild in the forest with wolves, and the next I awoke to loud, thunderous booms, and thick, black smoke clouds. Voices could be heard from my inflamed room, noon seemed pleased, not in the least.
Anger
Anger shot from the mouths of my unknown visitors. I had to get to my dad so I could figure out why this was happening, and most important, who caused it. I lifted my arm...nothing happened. I tried once more; still nothing. My body seemed to not want to move for me. Horror struck, panic began to erup inside me. My body lay motionless, positioned in my small bed. The flames were giving off a black smoke, and if correct, the black smoke stuffed itself deep into my lungs that my brain was giving out making signals to body parts less than nothing.
I gave it a few more tries, but soon gave up. It was no use, my body was useless. I tried calling out, more like yelling, but the attempts were just as my previous ones, a failure.
The End
Was it for me? My life, at fifteen years old, was going to end, now? It couldn't, not yet. So much I had not done, so many things I have wished to accomplish: getting married; have an offspring; locate my lost mother...
That last goal, finding my mother, a women of Native decent that left when I was just an infant to return to her tribe. It was the exact same mother that my father, who was not of Native blood, loved. We both loved her. I had never met her, or remember the time I did, but at least we possessed a painting of her. The painting hung over our fireplace. Every night my father and I would ablaze the fireplace and gaze at the painting. She was gorgeous: her skin, tan, more of a gold-ish brown; hair draped down her back in a magnificent flow, like waves in the ocean. What fascinated me the most -her eyes. They were a beautiful hazel color, yet they shined like the sun.
She was beautiful.
I lied there, continuing to inhale and exhale the black-death. Breathing became difficult; my lungs ached for fresh, pure oxygen, and my heart rate gradually decreased.
Yes
I closed my eyes. Instead of seeing complete darkness, an image of my mother appeared. The beautifull image of that golden skin, gorgeous long hair, and...
...and...
Her eyes
Those eyes beamed down on me with such beauty.
This...this image -my mother- the last memory I would have before dying. Tears begin to trickle down my cheek. These tears were not from fear of dying, nor from the intense pain my body was in.
No
I was crying because I would never, not even in the next life time get to meet my mother, the very one who gave birth to me; the one who shared the blood which ran through my veins; a life time dream, now crushed by this tragedy.
The faint image began to fade, it retracted, moving back into the darkest section of my mind. The beats left for my heart were low; pain penetrated my body. My lungs finally gave out, and just when my mind was set on dying...
-BAM-
Life sprang back into me. My eyes shot open to find a large man at my door. The man, like I said, was very great in size: his head almost touched my ceiling; hands the size of eagles; his body shape was massive. He could take on a bear and win.
In one of the man's gigantic hands, he held a silver stake, and in the other, a large mallet. The purpose for those two items was beyond me, yet it made me shrink back in fear. Whatever this guy's purpose was could not be good for me.
Unsure on what to do, I laid there. Anything else was impossible anyway. The man took two long strides, now at my bed, hovering over me. He raised the two objects: the stake position at my heart, and the large mallet raised high above the man's head, touching the ceiling.
He glared down upon my body.
Until now, I had not noticed the giant's eyes: pitch black and filled with the desire to kill...me.
Why
"DIE DEMON!" The man shouted as the mallet dropped.
Death could not be avoided now. If only my body would had just given into the black smoke, then I wouldn't have to suffer this unfortunate death.
My eyes clenched closed, body frozen...This was it...
...
Blood slapped across my face: lips covered in blood; the smell sickened me. I was dead. A stake was driven strait through my heart...
Or did it...
Was my life over? Did the stake pierce my body, stealing my most precious gift, life? It must have. Blood stained my face, yet I felt very much alive. I opened my eyes slowly to see...
The man hung over me with a hole in his chest where his was placed, or should have been. A clear view of what was behind him could be seen, and behind the giant stood another man. The giant feel to the floor, but the second guy -hands covered in blood- stood where the giant previously stationed.
This new figure, smaller in size compared to the giant, grabbed me by my collar and threw my limp body over his shoulder, then dashed out of the room.
I did not recognize this man, my vision blurry. His mysteriousness did not matter. No. What mattered was that he saved me from not just one, but two deaths. Without this guy, my savior, I probably would have died by the hands of the giant, or the smokes grasp would have taken my soul.
Lightning quick, we ran through the house which was now hell. The only thing able to slip past my blurred vision were the red hellish flames; they began to vanish . The sound of a door open and closing could be heard. I was thrown to the floor, hard, landing with a thud.
Pure oxygen flooded my lungs and seconds later I could see once more, but not fully. As the air pushed through me, great pain followed. My body had to adjust to clean air again. I looked up. The man stood over me. I quickly identified this man.
"Dad?" The mystery guy who helped me escape deaths greedy paws was none other than my dad.
He rushed to the center of the room without speaking. This room looked new, a room I had never visited. It contained absolutely no furniture. A window was positioned to the far left of the room. After my observation of the room, it hit me, the reason this room was not recognizable. Our house, which we lived in, was very big. It had two parts, or sections: East Wing, and West Wing. The East Wing was prohibited, I was never allowed to enter this section of the house. That law was enforced by my dad. He never told my why, and I never questioned him.
Dad dug around in his pocket, pulling out a white stick; chalk is what it looked like from where I sat. He knelt down then began drawing on the wooden floor beneath him. After he finished, he stood.
His project complete: a circle, perfectly rounded was drawn. Inside the circle was a weird design. It ran through the entire circle. I stood up, but fell back down. My muscles had not repaired themselves as of yet. I tried again with success this time.
Even while standing, the circle looked odd. I walked forward to get a better view of it, stumbling in the process. A husky voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Oliver, remove your clothing!" Dad ordered.
I didn't think twice, obeying my dad's order. I took my shirt off first, then worked down my sleeping shorts, stopping at my underwear.
"Those as well! Hurry, Oliver!' He seemed frightened, and he should have been. The house was on fire, and on top of that we were still inside it, and let's not forget the angry people outside, the ones causing all of this chaos.
I removed my last article of clothing. There I stood, naked, exposed fully to my dad for his own personal reasons. I didn't mind though, this wasn't my first time being completely naked in front of him. On occasions we bathed together, so to me this was nothing.
"D-dad? What's going on? Why am I naked?" My voice broken. I was scared, having no knowledge of what was going to happen.
Dad jumped ou of the circle. "This is difficult to explain," He paused. "I've been accussed of being a witch, and now the villigers want me dead, as well as yourself."
"A...a witch...me?" I stared at the floor. Now compared to my situation earlier, I was maxed out scared. People wanted me dead, and I knew exactly how they would execute me.
In these dark years, people believed witches lived amongst them. A witch could be any one: friend, family, neighbors; anyone was fair game, and no one was safe. Bible abusers adopted scriptures, making them their own and twisting God's words. Now villages were in chaos. If a person did not like another, or wanted that person's land or cattle, they would accuse that person of witchcraft. Being accused is the worst thing to happen, because the punishment usually end in death. A person could avoid death only if they confessed. People who did not confess were hung.
Tears streamed down my face once more. My dad and I were going to die. Images of the giant man flashed in my head. I shivered at the thought. What if they were all like him? Thinking about it made me sick.
"I don't want to die." I said in only a whisper, yet my dad still could hear my words.
Dad walked up to me and placed a strong hand on my shoulder. "You're not going to die, never." Looking up, I met his gaze. Tears were forming in his eyes. What was he planning? "Lay down in this circle I've made."
I obeyed, laying in the center of the circle.
"Spread your legs."
I did so, rubbing my legs against the splintery floor beneath me. Dad gave me an approving nod. He moved in front of my body.
"I love you Oliver," He stated. "What I am about to do is not bad, so please do not think less of your dear father."
The way he spoke, such sorrow, as if he was going to do something horrible to me, but that couldn't be the case, he was my father. The whole ordeal scared me to such an extreme, I was doubting my own father, the person who would never do anything to harm me.
Dad placed his hand behind his back and withdrew a blade, long and sharp, standing sixteen inches. My heart sank. Just as before, my body went still.
He moved the blade to his risk, whispering a few words before slicing his wrist.
Blood dripped down his arm and onto the circle.
Upon contact with the blood, the circle glowed a bright red. The red reminded me of the fires that trapped me not long ago. The glow of red became a beam of light that shot through the ceiling and into the sky.
I gazed up. The night sky wasn't dark with little lights, but red. The beam created an amazing view. A red tubular beam shot so far up I could of swear it touched the moon; maybe even heaven. The red orb, which was now the moon, bestowed it's sight upon me, casting down it's rays of light as the circle beneath me shot up it's rays.
Yes, I should have been scared; should have jumped up and ran out, but I couldn't for two reasons.
First, the scenery kept my attention tight within it's grasp; to great to take my eyes away. Ever since I was five, the moon, no, the night sky fascinated me. Now I was seeing it in a whole new way. Just as my home, the nghts sky was ablaze, and for some crazy reason that was not clear, even to myself, I felt happy. Not content happy, but powerful happy.
Second. My body wasn't responding to its signals again. On occasions, I wanted to raise my hand up and at least attempt to grab or touch the pyre sky, but my body disobeyed. It seemed to have a mind of it's own, yet that probably wasn't the only reason I could not move. If correct, the circle my dad created caused me to shut down.
This circle could not be good, but my trust within dad remained stone hard, so I didn't worry to much.
Dad knelt down once more.
"Son, before I do this, I want you to know a few things," Dad face showed sorrow, and his voice weak. "First let me start off by saying I'm proud of you. You are, by far, the best son a father could ever ask for." He smiled, but faintly. "What is about to happen will shock you, but please remain calm, and always remember, you're not a monster."
Monster? Of course I wasn't a monster. Monsters were things that ran the nights; monsters are the fairytale witches everyone speaks of; monsters are those vicious villagers outside my home.
"Follow your heart, remain calm, and remember you're no monster." Dad stated again.
Why would he repeat that? I obviously was not a monster; I was human and been one for as long as I can remember. What is his purpose for stressing the obvious? That question would soon be answered.
Dad's focus went from me to the circle. He pressed a finger to the glowing circle, bowed his head a few inches and said with his strong, husky voice, "You are a protector!"
Thos words shot through my head; his voice rang, piercing my ear drum. I opened my mouth to scream -utter silence. Pain overcame my body. The circle burned my fleshy back; bones cracked and shifted underneath my skin; organs replaced themselves; my hair growth increased, not just my head, but hair engulfed my skin. The shape of my face rearranged; now, instead of a flat face, a snout formed.
Intense pain invaded my body. Each shift of an organ or bone sent a new wave of pain. Unfortunately I had to suffer this pain without consent.
What I could not accept was the cause of my suffering, dad. The person I trusted the most betrayed me. He caused me unbearable pain, purposely and for his own reasons.
But
I felt no hatred toward my dad. Hatred was not able to surface my emotions, even as I endured this intense pain. Loyalty for my dad remained.
After about ten minutes, the pain halted. Every part of my body went numb. I felt as if there was no earth beneath me, like floating on a fluffy white cloud. I looked up at the full, red moon, then darkness filled my head.
...
"Oliver!" Someone called my name, their voice very deep and loud. I didn't move, not even a twitch.
The voice called out again, same tone.
"Oliver!"
My reaction had not changed. I wanted to move and answer this call, bbut it wasn't possible. The pain was gone, I was starting to think this whole thing was just a dream. Was it a figure of my imagination? My body felt strange, but not as if it was in pain.
"Son.." the voice in panic now. "fudo."
A jolt of energy pulsed through me, sending my eyes lids apart to catch light. At first my vision was blurry, but it quickly subsided, allowing me to see the rrom, that I thought was only a dream, in a different way, a much brighter and clear way.
Amazing! The room was much more, clear. Colors beat out of the wall, making everything look third dimensional. I looked down. The floor, every design, every splinter, every crack could be noticed. I observed the floor a little more, trying to see what other magnificent features I could discover, until I ran across an odd looking thing covered in hair. It was..attached...to me.
I lift my hand...
No
More like I lift a paw, because fingers were nowhere to be found. This was the part where most people would freak, but not me. I looked over the paw -my paw.
"Do you like your transformation?" My head jerked up to see my dad. "This son, is the most precious gift I can bestow you with; the gift of immortality, and powere." Suddenly, dad fell to his knees and began coughing up blood. Blood dripped from his lips.
*Twitch Twitch*
Ears picked up something -that somethingwas a crowd of angry villagers. The were coming in fast,
"Son," My dad continued to cough up blood. "Oliver, get out of here."
I went over to my father's side. There was no way I was going to leave my father. I put my head under him and pushed up, attempting to lift him. He brushed me away.
"Get out of here!" -cough- "Do not disobey your father..." He raised his voice.
-BAM-
The door burst open. Villagers crowded the room.
"GO!" Dad looked back at me, blood dripping from his lips and down his chin.
I steped back, slowly, looking into dad's eyes. For the first time in my life, I sensed fear in him, occupied by sorrow and grief. Deep inside, his soul cried out. What a sad sound to hear...so weak...so frightened.
"Blood!" Dad yelled, "Blood!"
"What? Blood? How would screaming blood help? I searched his face for a sign, a hint, anything to clear the meaning behind it, but found nothing. No clue, hint, or anything; just a cold stare that screamed 'GET OUT'.
Dad raised one hand then slapped it to the ground. My ears twitched and I jumped back as a piece of ceiling fell, blocking my view of him.
"GO!"
I had to obey him now. I searched for an exit.
Window!
The window, my only way out. I ran to the window with two strides. My speed amazed even myself. Back in the village, I was the fastest kid in my age group, but now -now I could run abreast with stallion and keep up.
-SMASH-
I clashed with the window, falling two stories. What a stupid thing to do; now I was going to break my legs -all four of them. But to my surprise, instead of breaking them, I landed on all four with ease.
It did not stop there. As my paws touched land, I jolted across the grassy felids surrounding our house. The forest was approximately one hundred and thirty yards from house.
Within seconds I made it to the forest entrance. Again my speed impressed me.
Upon arrival into the forest a voice boomed, sending it's message across one hundred and thrity-two yards of field.
"BLOOOOOOOOOOD!"
I turned my attention back towards the house. Fire washed completely over it, setting my entire home ablaze.
"Dad..."
-BOOM-
The house exploded in flames; smoke rose up, sending a burning flesh smell high into the sky."
"DAD!"
The flesh smell invaded my snout, burning my nostrils, dropping the taste of blood in my mouth. Yes, I could taste the burning flesh -a salty, mucus flavor filled my taste buzz -I liked it...
I put the delicious taste aside, as hard as it was doing so, and placed my attention back to the house -well, what once was a house. Now it lad in pyre; wood was now ash. The beautiful home which obtained my possession, my life, memories, mom's painting -my dad...Now all tiny dust particles.
Tears fell from my eyes like raindrops. I was crying...
A voice whispered in my head -my councious I presume. 'He's dead' The voice announced. 'He's dead.'
The voice lied! It had to be lying. My own conscious was telling me false information -well, that is what I would had liked to believe. Common sense would tell a person that if a house erupted in flames with someone trapped inside, then that person was gone, forever, yet I fought the logeic, looked past the obvious. I was to afraid to even think about my father, the last person in my life that I knew who cared, who was there, who loved me.
NO!
I had to go back. But what good would that do? It would be a waste of time. My dad was dead. I had finally given into the voice. It now told me to run, run far away and never even consider looking back.
Justas if the voice belonged to my dad, I obeyed. I ran deep into the forest, tears carried away by the wind. I traveled with great speed, with only one goal in mind -and that was to get as far away from this place; to get away from my old life and the horrible memories that his place wore on its shoulders...