It Wasn't Supposed To Be This Way

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Nova and Astrid. Astrid and Nova. They were inseparable. But no, it's just Nova. Alone. Hunted. Feared.

Submitted: September 20, 2018

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Submitted: September 20, 2018



I live in a split world, where witchcraft is used, and lycanthropy is frowned upon. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I wasn’t supposed to be alone. They weren’t supposed to run away. I’m not a killer. I’m not different. Am I? She wasn’t supposed to die. I should have saved her. But I didn’t. Now she’s gone. And I have to run. I have to runwithout looking.


She was the one protecting me from their glare’s, but I was the one who protected her with my life. Now she’s gone, and I’m to blame. I wasn’t there when she needed me.


When astrid was here, I didn’t have to run. They think I killed her, devoured her, like the other thousands of my kind. I wasn’t a cannibal.  Part of me wished they put me out of my misery. But I had to survive, I had to! For her. For Astrid.


I pictured her red to yellow hair, and red-brown wolf ears. Her dark emerald eyes. She was always ready to explore the woods with me. The woods I stood panting in now.


I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, my clothing was in rags, much like my mind. I was torn. Half of me hoped Astrid was alive, the other grieved. Tears filled the vision of my good eye. I was half blind. I lost the sight in my left eye over three years ago. Two years before I met Astrid. She helped me find my way when all the light disappeared. She became my light. The world is dark without her around. Without the knowing that she’ll always be there. ‘Stop. You have to accept that she’s gone. “ But I’m still living. I will continue living. I will live in fear. I will live with the hatred around me.


I didn’t know if they were behind me. And I don’t know if they are surrounding me. I have to rely on my instincts, the only thing that got me through life as a pup. When I was at her school, no one wanted to be my friend. They thought I was weird. I couldn’t learn witchcraft. When it came to light I was a Lycanthrope, nobody wanted me. Not even my parents. I was a curse. But Astrid saw through me, just as I saw through all the wilting souls that wander through the empty forest. She became a Lycanthrope. In a way, I dragged her down with me. But we were fierce protectors. You couldn’t tear us apart. We were blood sisters.


“What was that noise?” The confidence I gained from reliving the old, safe days, vanished in an instance. The terror of having to go through the pain my ancestors had to, blinded my instincts. All I was left with was inquietude. The peace the forest once contained was disturbed. I can feel the sweat drench my skin, the throbbing of my own eyes, the ringing screams vibrating in my ears, and the thumping of my heart against my chest. My fingers are curled into a fist, claws digging into my palm. Whitening my knuckles. I couldn’t hear my rapid breathing, but I can feel the oxygen flooding in and out of my lungs. Hesitantly, I step back into the tree cover. Retreat would be a disaster, a show of weakness an inlet for the enemy to surge through. Especially this far into the game. The knife of panic twisted in my gut, hammered my head and shook my confidence. Yet it never reached my muscles of facial expression. I slowed my breathing, to lose control would result in being shot on sight. If the rustling was from humans.

For a few precious moments all was quiet. The sun began its descent. The clouds that were visible through the trees were lined with gold. The sky was lilac, like a field of lavender. An eerie wind blew the leaves on the trees, and closed the last few flower buds that dared be open. It was pretty, true, but nothing felt complete without Astrid. It should have been a calm night. But it wasn’t.


The tree’s spirit crashed through the forest towards me. For a moment I stopped, I saw through it. I saw the humans conducting, casting resurrection spells. The innocent spirit was torn from its path to the spirit realm. I watched it’s movie-like memories. Then I saw something that made my heart stop. I saw Astrid. Bound up, cuts leaking blood. Tears filled with crimson streaming down her pain ridden face. “Tell it what she looks like” The creature sniffed Astrid. My scent would be on her clothing. The day she left we had been wandering through the forest. I heard her voice. “S-she has dark blue-black hair....” Her words were chopped up.


I was so engrossed in the visions that when I returned to the present moment, I panicked. My senses tuned to high alert. Every colour was brighter, every noise louder, every scent on the spirits breath. The information reached me and was sorted immediately.


I lost control.


Anger was my fire. Kindled by my losses, fueling my transformation. My vision blurred. I wasn’t human anymore. I had turned to my true form. I was stronger as a wolf. I could take more. I stripped the bark and leaves that clung to the spirit. Sap spilled out to replaced the wounds. If I could just crack the ‘shell’ enough, the spirit could be free. I didn’t stop. All the anger that built up was taken out on the spirit’s cage. It was shaped as a human, but many tail lengths higher, reaching near the roof of the forest. It looked down to me, its mouth curved in spite, but its eyes saddened. It didn’t want to hurt me. But it did. It picked my wolf body up and sent me crashing down.  I switched back to human. My breathing hard against my bruised rib cage. “I’ve felt worse.” I screamed up at it. The emotional neglect. The love and trust that was torn from me. My family left me. I screamed again as I ran to its fungi covered feet, tearing it apart with my hands. Dirt and grass stuck to my fingers. I couldn’t stop now. I had to save Astrid. I never got to tell her. I never got to say “I Love You”


Everything was dark. Thick with static


You know when you are in endless pain when you wake up that morning and realize that you are dead, buried and forgotten by those people who don’t give a damn about you. You know you will forever be in pain when you wake up that morning, with a jolt, to an emotionless, black room. You know pain when you go to sleep with it every night and you see yourself being lowered in your own grave but when you scream to those ‘mourning’ and burying you, your screams are whimpers that no one hears. Because they were never there. You know that dull ache, of never getting to tell the one person who cared, the one person who gave up being accepted for you, the one who was dear to you, three words:  “I Love You”


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