A Tale to Tell Ch.1
Ch.1
*Yes, you sir in the back*, I said with a smile
Lights from photos being taken flashed, people raising their voice and waving their paws trying to get their question asked next, news cameras recording everything that was happening. Everything was good.
"Well Andrew sir, what I wanted to ask is, do you have some sort of history of hate?"
Every head in the room turned to me, awaiting my response. My smile had faded; and it was THAT question at THAT moment that really got me thinking; about my past, about everything. But I guess the only way for me to explain it to you is for me to tell you my story, from where it all started....
MANY YEARS AGO:
It feels like it's been forever, but I still remember it like it was yesterday....
I was maybe 4 or 5 years old. The extreme anger and the horrible yelling and fights and hate between my parents, both of them wolves like me. It scared me at first, but it later became the beginning of my hatred. Hatred to my father, constantly coming home crazy drunk, coming home to his family yelling and argueing with his wife, oblivious to the fact that his 5 year old boy was boiling with rage while watching what he saw was a horrible role model and a poor excuse for a father.
But one day my mother had had enough. I remember I was 6, just entering 1st grade.
She snapped, she attacked my father, and he tried to hurt her...and succeeded.
I remember sitting next to my mom crying, as she also cried out in pain; yet I remained unharmed.
A year later she left him, and we moved to Washington
I remember it was nice there. It was there where I first met a pony. In my old hometown there were mostly humans; and only a few other furs, or so my mom told me. Though I never met any other wolf furs like me, or really no furs at all for that matter. So I was a rather...lone wolf/
At first I didn't like the ponies, but that was because they were jackasses. They would tease me, physically and socially bullying me. But later on, I enededup becoming friends with multiple ponies; and I grew to like ponies
2 YEARS LATER:
It was decided that we would move again. This time to California, near my grandparents.
It was a nice and open place there, many small towns, lots of land, with all three furs humans and ponies, and not too crowded. The only problem was that where we lived, we were close to the ghetto side of town, with multiple gangs there. So we had to be careful.
Me and my grandpa would walk around town sometimes, just to enjoy the town; though we were careful not to go into the wrong side of the town, not wanting to risk anything.
But one winter, I was riding my bike around town, but I hit a small icepack and crashed my bike into the partially frozen sidewalk. I ahd couple bruises and cuts, but I was alright. The front tire had popped and the chain got stuck, so instead of struggling it back to my house, I simply decided to go and get a pump and some tape from my house and bring it here and repair it myself.
But when I got home, my mother got upset at me.
"Wh-...where's your bike?!"
*Outside, a couple blocks away*
"Why the hell would you leave it there? Go back and get it"
*But-*
"Now!"
I quit trying to explain to my mom what had happened and whatI was doing. I decided to just go back and struggle my bike back to my house and fix it there.
But when I got to my bike, I found somebody there, messing with it.
*Hey! That's my bike!*
The person turned around, and I was shocked to see who it was....
It was Fang. A notorious member of the gang known as "The Pack". People said he was called Fang because he was a murderer and he killed his victims by ripping their throats out with his huge, sharp fangs.
"Huh? This your kid?"
*...Ummm...y...yes...?*
He looked at the bike one more time, and then looked me up and down. I was so scared for my life; imagining the large wolf pouncing on me and killing me with his infamous fangs. And the horrible irony of me being killed by a wolf, one of my kind. Already regretting not telling my mother how much I loved her....
"'Ight kid, here you go."
He simply rolled it to me and gave it to me, nothing else.
*...Th...thanks....*
"No problem, man. Front tire's popped by the way. 'Ight, later kid."
He just turned around and simply walked away.
Noyhing else.
I was still stuck with fear; and shocked to still be alive. I stood there motionless, still not believing what had just happened.
After a while I was able yo gain my wits back, and walked home.
I later told my friends about what had happened that day, and then they started calling me "Wolf Boy" or "Lone Wolf", but after awhile I was just known as "Wolf."
End of Ch.1