The University of Westerham, California boasted of being one of the best in the country. And in as much as people from all over the world and of all races attended the school, I could not help but stand out... and I mean that literally. Now standing at 6 feet 2 inches, I was the only English boy from London in the whole university. While in the pack in London, I had not noticed how strong our accent was until i got here. At first, the American accent sounded weird and too fast and their vowels were too flat for me to follow but now, I have gotten used to the accent, but not used to the double looks people gave me when I spoke. Its been a little over a year since I was banished from North London pack and I must say banishment is a light punishment to the crimes I was charged but i still remembered everything like it all happened yesterday. The alarm rang above my bed jolting me to reality. I jumped and prepared for another hectic Monday morning in this campus. I was still a fre
"...four page paper on Fossils found in South America... make sure it is sent to my email before next week..." Professor Gilbert's voice cut through my thoughts and dragged me back to the present. Four page what? I was totally lost as people around me started packing up their bags and laptops. Was the class over? I had not heard a word of teaching. I leaned over to a red haired boy by my side. "Sorry, excuse me...." I whispered to him. "I did not get the last part of what the professor said."He turned to look at me. "An assignment." He said in an accent that I figured out to be Spanish. My time in Brazil assured me. I nodded. "Yeah. What was the assignment about?" He stalled for a while. Lost in my own thick as butter accent. Then he turned his laptop to me to let me copy off the question. "Thanks, mate." I said, getting up and moving with the crowd out of the hall. America was so different from London. I learned that the hard way... I glanced at my wrist watch. The time w
THE SOUND OF a car drew me out of my reverie. I recognized the sound as that of my Dad's Bentley. He had gotten it s few months after we moved here. I glanced at the bedside clock and calculated that I had been here for close to 3 hours. I sat up and walked to my room's window and watched him as he drove the car through the sgirt driveway and into the garage. I heard him park the car and enter the house using the inner door from the garage. "Hi, Dad." I said fr the doorway. He looked startled and surprised to see me. "Jason." He said, when he managed ti recover from the shock. "What in hell's name are you doing here?" He asked. I shrugged, not thinking of a sensible enough answer to give him. He understood me because he just gave me a sad look. "You having those nightmares again?" He asked. I shook my head. It was not the nightmares. Something colder. Something deeper. Like a sensation that something really bad was about to happen.Maybe something bad is about to happen, M
I looked around me. 5 dead bodies. What was happening to me?I tried to clench my fists but I was holding something. I raised my hand to my face and saw I was holding something long and fat. Like a bloody rubber pipe. It was with a sickening sensation that I realized I was holding the large intestine of a man. My stomach cramped in disgust as I opened my finger and it slid down with a wet slurp! to the floor. Then the pain came. More than I've ever felt since I started wearing the cuffs. Like my soul was being pulled away from my body and placed in hell. It came in waves. How labour contractions would feel like, I guess, with the next one ten times worse than the previous. I went on one knee. And shut my eyes. And tried to fight it. I was afraid of blacking out. Who knows who would wake me up… a random passers by? The cops?I gathered all my willpower and strength and got up shakily. I grabbed my laptop bag from the floor and staggered away. The pain continuously washed o
THE WEEK PASSED in a blur. And there was no news about the dead men. The men we killed, my Cat corrected me. I scoffed. Yeah right. History and Anthropology today again. I sighed as i rushed into the lecture hall. I had not even done the assignment given by the professor. I sighed again at the sight of the serious looking students as we all found a seat and prepared to sit down. The hall was built like a stadium. The seat were set like stairs in an upward progressive fashion. It was able to sit about 250 students. There were aisle for easy movements at intervals. The lecturer's desk and board were at the front of the class, before the first student desk. A projector was whirring above near the front lights. I entered through the back door and into the top and farthest row. I picked my way down and found my way down to the middle of hall where I took a seat beside a quite plain looking girl with hair the colour of burning ginger. Where did that come from? I scoffed to myself a
A OWL HOOTED in the distance. The moon was full and bright casting a ghostly pale blue light everywhere. Throwing places in dark utmost shadows. The whole area was quiet and still. Or so it seemed. The cemetery was especially creepy tonight. This was because the temple at the south wall was a bee hive of activities. The grand magus of the witchcraft society would be coming during the week and teh head witch was making sure everything was in accordance to his taste. The taste which had not changed since the last 300 years since he became grand magus. The Witchcraft society was the strictest amongst the other species and creatures. After being tapped in their young age, each young witch and wizard undergoes series of hard training and lessons before they are graduated and initiated into the witchcraft society.Often argued as being the powerhouse of magic and main controllers of magic, the witchcraft society solely thrived on sacrifices and potions. They took their magic more
Being a natural born pure blooded witch from a strong bloodline is not as easy as it sounds. Allison can tell you all about that. About how hard it is. About how disturbing it is when people look at you and immediately think that you should be a powerful witch. She got introduced to magic as soon as she was born, being that both of her parents were witch and wizard. It was nothing new. But her parents had wanted her to live a normal life. A life without the weight of their bloodline pulling down the child. So they sent her to a human preschool, elementary, middle and high school. That was the plan though. Her mother died a few years later when Allison was 6. Some kind of cancer. Maybe cancer of the colon or something. Nobody was sure. She was left with her father who was almost like her best friend. He had insured her education through the middle and high school. He always made out time for her. Reading. Playing. Practicing magic which was normally forbidden at her age. She
I watched calmly as the ginger colour haired girl took a deep breath and then heaved herself up. She took one glance at me. I stuck out my right hand, "Jason Beckham." She took a look at my outstretched hand and snorted, refusing to take it. Then she said, "I do not know what were talking about, Mr… Beckham. I certainly do not know about any cuffs or magic or werewolves or Vampires." She stood up shakily on her legs, packed her things and walked wobbly out of the door. She was lying!I knew she was lying. She knew she was lying. She knew that I knew she was lying!What could she possibly be hiding from? And what did she do to warrant cuffing? Only one way to find out. I walked out of the half opened door she had left behind and sauntered to professor Gilbert of History and Anthropology's office. I had never been to his office before. I stood outside the door and could feel the cold strong draft of the air conditioner from within the office. Boldly written on gold letters was