Remnant Of A GhostMature

I passed a jewelry store on the way back to the warehouse. It was dark inside and an alarm pealed at a screeching decibel. A police car sat half way on the curb. In front of the vehicle a little ways was the body of the police man, his crimson blood pooling beneath him.

I slowed to halt, peering into the closed store with increasing interest. There was a gunman inside, holding his weapon to the head of a woman who clutched a thin teenage girl in an embrace of love.

Her eyes pleaded me to help her. The gunman hadn't seen me yet. He was shouting something at the woman, gesturing with his free hand towards the dead police man.

With a jolt, I realized that the runaway van had been nothing more than a distraction. They had most likely attempted to steal some of the precious jewels inside, then one decided that the woman and her daughter would bring in a good sum. I wondered for a moment if they had considered ransom or prostitution.

I smashed through the display window with my claw. My hand dripped with blood from the shards of glass now embedded in my palm. Ignoring the pain, I stepped into the store.

Cases of jewelry had been busted open, gold and silver bits and pieces spread haphazardly across the smooth white floor.

The gunman caught sight of me. Unlike most humans, he wasn't afraid of me. A black ski mask obscured his face, just like the man who had been driving the van. He aimed his weapon in my direction.

"Stay back, freak! Alan already warned me you'd be coming,"

Alan? Who was this Alan he spoke of? Surely he didn't mean....

His statement had distracted me. A bullet barreled towards me. I stepped nimbly out of its path. It struck the glass door behind me which burst into a thousand pieces.

The two women cried out in surprise.

"Now, get out of here before I put a bullet through your skull,"

I crouched low to the ground, dismissing his threat with a low growl in my throat. My tail snapped back and forth angrily.

"One," He cocked his gun. I bunched my muscles.


I sprang.


I knocked him down. The gun went off, firing a hole into the ceiling. A spray of white dust rained down at us. I clawed at his mask till it was nothing but shreds, his face bleeding beneath the black tattered fabric.

A bright blue eye peered out at me, rage at it's core, "Get off me you bitch!"

I took his head in my hands and slammed it against the floor several times until he was knocked unconscious. I hoped I hadn't given him a concussion.

Crawling off the man, I crept slowly towards the woman and her daughter. The woman screamed, scrambling backwards. The girl took the opportunity to untangle herself from her mother's arms.

"Mom. It's okay," She reassured the woman.

The far off peal of sirens told me the reinforcements were on their way. I stood to leave. A soft hand fell on my shoulder. I looked back at the girl. She had brown hair and brown eyes, freckles dappling her face. She was about my age.

"Who are you?" She murmured, searching my eyes.


I ran home and never looked back. Because the truth was, I didn't know who I was. Am I a human being, or am I an animal?

Angela Fredericks, daughter of Alan Fredericks.

Alan already warned me you'd be coming....

But that was impossible, he died in the helicopter crash.... Or did he?

Angela no more.

I am Fang.

The End

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