insan ty

Sharp Teeth and Dark Secrets (Private 1x1)

Recommended Posts

insan ty    147

People believed that we had faded into mist, that we had become figments of their imagination. That, like so many other things of the past, we had faded into the shadows. We are as alive as the very air you breath, the water you drink and the ground you walk upon. Except, I guess it should be I who should be laughing, considering that your wars are what brought much of the world to despair and ruin. You, who rose so quickly to power and prestige of the world's races, and yet, like so many others before you, crashed and burned. Have you not heard of Icarus and his tale? Of how he tried to fly to the heavens only to have the wax binding his wings melt in the sun's harsh rays and come spiraling down to the water and rocks below? Perhaps, if you had, things would not be as they are.

The edges of the picture frame felt smooth under my fingertips, the picture inside faded, a smiling family reminiscing of happier times and days. Countless other pictures dot the walls of the rooms and the stairway, the stairs themselves rotting and in disrepair. Shoots of grass peek out from beneath the wood flooring, nature working even now to reclaim what was originally hers. Merciless, mechanical, without prejudice. The smell of jasmine is thick in the air and I follow it with my nose to discover a small copse of the plant in a vase, the original vase broken into pieces on a mountain of dirt. I lean forward, my fingers gently caressing the petals and lifting them to my nostrils and inhaling deeply. Countless other aromas follow the heady scent into my mind, the earthy smell of fresh dirt among them. I slowly turn and make my way back to the entrance, pushing on a door that complains on rusty hinges, protesting even as it swings open to display the sunshine and blue sky.


The word echoed loudly in the awkward silence. There, upon the steps stood two other teenagers, a boy and a girl. The boy appeared no older than sixteen; but, his emerald gaze had a sort of haunted look about it that seemed to speak of trauma in his past that even now plagued his subconscious. He was tall without being bulky with squared shoulders and jaw, an unruly head of dark, raven-like hair. The girl was just over seventeen years of age and pretty in a tomboy sort of way, her dirty blonde hair cut pixie style and a boyish build.

"You done yet, Zeke?" The boy probed, scratching at the faint stubble of hair sprouting on his chin. "Dad has called us back home."

"I guess," I sighed, hating the nickname my litter mates had branded me with but lacking a better alternative. "There wasn't anything in this house worth taking, nothing but memories and dust."

The girl raised an eyebrow and made as if to climb past me up the steps and I threw out an arm to block her. "Don't Lily, there's nothing in there worth you seeing."

Lily made as if to growl; but, noticing my stormy expression, let the words die unbidden on her tongue. I knew that I wouldn't be hearing the end of this any time soon and forced the useless thought to the back of my mind. There was more important things to be attended to. I brushed the dirt on my worn jeans and sighed. "Have they decided?"

"Zeke," Lily began, pausing before continuing. "You broke one of the sacred rules. What...what did you expect?"

I sighed again and ran a hand through my warm, brown locks. "I don't honestly know. I guess maybe that something would change, that I'd find something I hadn't before?"

"You broke one of the pack's sacred laws man," Trevor's, the boy, voice rose an octave until he was almost shouting. "You're lucky that they didn't send an enforcer after you...out here...why did you come out here again? You know the cities are dead man, there's nothing here but ghosts and dust and each year there's more of the latter."

I narrowed my steel, blue gaze at him and he flinched, definitely not alpha material. "Ghosts hold memories Trevor and sometimes stories. Stories of our past, our history before the bombs fell and they killed themselves off. Of a time when we hid our true selves from them for fear of persecution. Forgive me if I grow curious and want to go visit. One of these days, nature is going to wipe the slate clean here and there'll be nothing but memories of them."

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now