W
WriterFreak
Guest
Original poster
A message is whispered among the special, the different. Those without abilities were to die. Slowly, it comes. What remains of people are found in their beds; blood soaks the mattress ans ashes are piled neatly on the pillow. Parts of them still remain- an arm, a leg, a finger.. and so on. The world is plunged into chaos as panic overcomes.What will you do to stop it? Are you human? Demon? Angel? Elf? 'Special'? What will you do to stop it all, figure it out?
Aryn stares down at what remains of his family, frustrated and alone as sirens fill the air and he turns toward the window. Someone is doing this, he thought as he sprinted down the stairs. He wished he wasn't different, that he wasn't a 'copycat' as everyone called him. Was it his fault he could do anything he saw, including changing his DNA painfully to grow wings, conjure fire from nowhere? It tired him, exhausted him completely every time he Changed. If he forgot the scene he watched, he couldn't do it. Simple as that. He kept his Ipod with him at all times, and he watched the demon spread his wings on it now, screaming in pain as the bone burst from his skin, wrapped with muscle and skin, then grew the feathers. Jumping out the window, he flew to where the survivors where, those who knew what was happening. Looking down at the cars, he saw the blood. It was happening faster now, too fast. Few ran through the streets, and he saw -something- run up to a Non and touch him, who collapsed to the ground and exploded. He shivered and knew the things wandering around could kill anyone. Anything. He had killed a few with the sword strapped to his back, and now they were all after him. He flew into the mountains and knocked on a large, iron door installed at the base of a mountain. He was immediately ushered inside and he looked all around him, seeing the 30 or so people that refuged there, all under twenty.
Aryn stares down at what remains of his family, frustrated and alone as sirens fill the air and he turns toward the window. Someone is doing this, he thought as he sprinted down the stairs. He wished he wasn't different, that he wasn't a 'copycat' as everyone called him. Was it his fault he could do anything he saw, including changing his DNA painfully to grow wings, conjure fire from nowhere? It tired him, exhausted him completely every time he Changed. If he forgot the scene he watched, he couldn't do it. Simple as that. He kept his Ipod with him at all times, and he watched the demon spread his wings on it now, screaming in pain as the bone burst from his skin, wrapped with muscle and skin, then grew the feathers. Jumping out the window, he flew to where the survivors where, those who knew what was happening. Looking down at the cars, he saw the blood. It was happening faster now, too fast. Few ran through the streets, and he saw -something- run up to a Non and touch him, who collapsed to the ground and exploded. He shivered and knew the things wandering around could kill anyone. Anything. He had killed a few with the sword strapped to his back, and now they were all after him. He flew into the mountains and knocked on a large, iron door installed at the base of a mountain. He was immediately ushered inside and he looked all around him, seeing the 30 or so people that refuged there, all under twenty.