The Hunt

So, this is my first attempt at a story...I don't know how long it will be or f it will even get finished at all, but I'd love to give it a try! It's an action/adventure/fantasy type story, with demons and angels and vampires and werewolves and all that jazz! I'm not sure what else to say without ruining it, so here's the first chappie! Let me know what you think! ^_^


The Hunt

Darling I don’t like it
When you say
Bad things about yourself,
Oh please don’t talk that way.
You are so beautiful.
I wish you could see
what I see.
You’re an Angel,
just like you always wanted to be.

Don’t hide your eyes from mine.
Angels do fall down, sometimes.
They do get blind.
It happens all the time.
Oh let your eyes look into mine.
You know I loved you all the time.
I loved you all the time.

Sinéad O'Connor

Chapter 1: The Meaning Behind the Words


                I was a decently happy child when I was born, delivered in Mississauga Hospital, and I had a pleasant childhood. All seemed well to my naive eyes. Until, like so many other couples, my parents decided that things weren’t working out. My dad wanted to stay in the city while my mom wanted a change of scene, a fresh start. She lives in a small town called Kirkland Lake, roughly seven hours north of where I live with my father. I was forced to choose between the two of them. Being nine years old I assumed it would all get fixed, mom would come back home, if I stayed where I was. Of course I was wrong.
At first I lived with my father, visiting my mother for two weeks every summer. They didn’t get along very well, so I usually did all the talking. I could live with that, I supposed. Up until the age of sixteen, anyway. That’s when my life was changed forever.
"Dad, I can’t stand this!"
 It was 7:30 on a Saturday morning. I was standing in the living room of our small apartment arguing with my father, if you could call it that. More like balancing myself between the different piles of junk that appeared everywhere I looked while I yelled at a wall.
 It was just too much. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my own father’s junk in its place. Looking at it now, I almost expected it to jump up and grab me, dragging me into its endless pit of doom. I shook my head and went back to glaring at my non responsive father. Tom Dirks, thirty-nine, was a very good-looking man for his age. He was tan, fit, and his gray-tinged blond hair sat perfectly on his head. The head which I felt like stomping on if he continued to ignore me.
"Are you listening to me?"
 He sighed dejectedly, turning toward me. " Sweetie, I know I’m a bit of a pig,"
"That’s the understatement of the year," I mumbled under my breath. He continued, pretending not to hear me, "but you’ve been living with me for nearly seven years without your mother. Aurora, you have to understand by now it’s just how I am."
I cringed at the sound of my name. Of all the names my mother could have picked. It’s so beautiful. Like a princess! She once told me. Honestly, I didn’t really want to be named after a Disney character. That was probably the only thing interesting about my life, and it didn’t really help me make friends anyway. I shot him a withering glare before continuing with my argument.
"That’s my point, Dad! I can’t deal with it anymore. I need something around here to change. Preferably before I go totally insane." I gave him a meaningful look. He needed to clean up his act. The apartment was a mess; his work took over the entire living room and half of the computer room as well. It was a total disaster! I never could understand how my mother had managed to keep everything in order.
Of course the apartment was spotless when my parents were married. My mother, Audrey, kept everything in its own place, and there was never a patch of dirt to be seen. If she saw the place now, she might have a heart attack.
" I know, I know. I need to clean up this mess before it takes over the apartment."
"It’s too late for that! I’m afraid to leave my room, Dad!"
He rolled his eyes at my melodramatics and shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch. It was a brown leather loveseat, facing the television in the corner of the room. The wrinkled cushions sagged under his weight, reminding me of how old everything in the apartment really was. Like, pre-marital problems old.
" I’ll get to work on it this weekend, all right?"
Yeah, like that was gonna happen. I nodded anyway and thanked him for listening to my demands. He muttered something about free will before standing up and stretching. "Anyway, I’ve gotta head to work. Catch you later, kid."
He was out the door in a flash. Tom worked for the government. He was sort of a computer expert (which is the nice way to say geek), particularly in the tracking areas. He could use a satellite to track someone down in seconds. Frankly, it was kind of freaky, knowing that you could be tracked down anytime, anyplace.  Sometimes it was a little weird how he wasn’t allowed to talk about his work and the late nights he spent at the office.
Sighing dejectedly, I looked around me. Piles of books, newspapers and unfinished notes were collecting all around the room. A typed sheet of paper lay on top of the pile closest to me, something about a meeting taking place a few weeks from now. Tom’s computer screen, barely visible behind the piles of various rubbish, was blinking impatiently. Clearing away some of the piles, ‘1 New Message’ flashed in front of my face. Placing the mouse icon over the acknowledgment button, I impatiently tapped the left button. Tom never did anything- this mail was probably weeks old. For someone working in the government, you’d think he’d be a little more careful. For all we knew, a bomb could have gone off because he didn’t check his mail on time.
After what felt like hours, the screen finally managed to load. My eyes, taking in the confusing message, scanned the screen, searching for something in English at the very least. I couldn’t find anything understandable. I stared, bewildered, at the strange message. Obviously it was encoded, but I had never seen anything like this before. My father always forgot to check his mail; he knew I checked it for him frequently. I glanced briefly at the sender, wondering if I might recognize it. Nothing about it seemed familiar at all. 

Slightly frustrated, I closed the window. I would ask my father about it when he got home. Besides, it was probably some boring info about some guy they were tracking. I really doubted it was anything important. Why would my father let me look through his things if I wasn’t supposed to see it?

The End

0 comments about this story Feed