Daylight and Snow | Teen Ink

Daylight and Snow

April 7, 2012
By WolfLover42, A City, Ohio
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WolfLover42, A City, Ohio
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Favorite Quote:
"For you it is a rose, for me it is my heart."

Author's note: Hey, guys. This is my third or fourth novel I’ve written, and the others are not so good. So please review and give some advice! I’d really appreciate it!

The author's comments:
Thanks for reading! Keep going!

DAYLIGHT & SNOW BY WOLFLOVER42/ALYSSA “THE NIGHTS ARE WASHED IN MOONLIGHT. FLASHES OF WHITE AND BLACK SOAR THROUGH THE SKY – ANGELS. HOWLS SPLIT THE AIR – SHAPE-SHIFTERS. HUMANS ARE GONE. THE PARANORMAL RUN THIS WORLD NOW.” (A STORY OF COURAGE, BLOOD, TRUTH AND LIES, DANGER AND SECRETS, FINDING WHO YOU ARE, AND OVERCOMING YOUR ENEMIES; OF FORBIDDEN LOVE AND NOT LISTENING TO THE RULES OF SOCIETY; OF DOING WHAT YOU LOVE, LOVING DESPITE THE RULES; WAR BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL; AND THAT FEAR OUT RULES EVERYTHING, EVEN LOVE.) PART ONE: THE SHAPE-SHIFTER PROLOGUE: BLOOD AND MOONLIGHT “THE MOON IS ALWAYS FULL FOR US. THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR.” ~THE DEAD WEATHER, ‘ROLLING IN ON A BURNING TIRE’ My nights were dark and bloody, my days painful and blinding. I lay in my cell, rough stones slick with blood. There is no comfort, no windows. I cling to the bars, searching the total darkness for a sign of movement, but my eyesight is too weak. The only light I receive is from the bluish moonlight slicing its way through cracks in the mortar. It creeps in my cell, shedding its dimness on my legs, showing the gruesome red welts and gashes on my legs. They make me wear a thin, ratty dress to my knees. My arms, neck, and throat are uncovered, subject to dirt and blood and any diseases lying around. Of course, through my misery, I knew the chances of picking up a disease are one in a million. My masters keep this place cleaner than anyone could imagine. I’ve lost all sense of time here. It’s been many, many years of course, but the days drag on so tediously painful that the agony washes away my sense of anything. I don’t know my own age, though many wrinkles crease my grayish skin yet. My hair is long and tangled, unwashed and hanging in limp black ropes to the backs of my knees. I think it was once a pretty blonde-white. Once someone lost to me had told me I had beautiful eyes. I haven’t seen them. There were no mirrors, and I was never out when it had rained, so never have I seen a reflection of me. I had heavy doubt that my eyes would be very pretty squinting in the dark and barely seeing any sunlight in years. For a long while, my only companion was myself. I kept my sanity, and I never talked aloud to myself. And never had I heard the guards speak outside of my cell. But one day they made quite the commotion, yelling and cursing. Even through that, their voices were like the sweetest melodies. There were sounds of grunts, scuffling and moans of pain. I peered through the bars, only to jump back in pure fear when one of their shadowed faces snarled at me. I listened instead, as another one of the cell gates screeched open. There was a heavy yet hollow thud, like a body. A few laughed maliciously, a lilting giggle to anyone not like them. They slammed the bars shut with a metallic shriek, leaving me and my new prisoner alone in pitch blackness. I pressed myself against the adjourned stone wall, a small barred window just short of my reach above my head. Someone was groaning and most likely retching. As soon as they had left, my longing for a companion had burst from me, and I wanted to speak to this new person. There were so many questions I had to ask. But as I listened, I figured I’d have to wait. Whoever it was, a he or she needed some food. Knowing where I stood, so skinny my ribs prodded into my skin, he wouldn’t get much more than I did. The next day however, I was brought a tray of thick soup, told my neighbor received the same. It was like this for a few weeks, until I was much stronger and slightly happier. Then they took us out and up. Stumbling and nearly falling up rocky stone stairs, I was blinded by bright morning sun. It was warm and delicious against my body, a surge of energy running through my veins like fire. I felt free and young. My moment was crushed instantly when they ordered us to begin working: pulling weeds from their gardens, trimming hedges, cutting down trees the width of two of me. But they knew they were in control, and we would never disobey, so they rarely kept an eye on us. We gradually came to speaking terms whilst we talked away the sweaty days. We formed a quick but strong bond, together in our slavery and aloneness. He told me his name was Griffin, and mine Madeline. And from then on, time seemed to move forward again. Despite the backbreaking pain of kneeling and skin-tearing tasks of weed pulling, he was my light in the dark. He was charming and sweet, and I didn’t care about his looks. He was just like me, covered in cuts and grime. His hair was long and curly, once some other color than charred black. His eyes were shining blue, bluer than the sky. One night, we were working late. We snuck away, hiding in a copse of silver-glimmering rowan trees. The moon was full and bright, and we experimented with our freedom. It was one of the best nights of my life. We weren’t caught until the next morning, where we were whipped harshly and separated for a month. We continued our duties alone. When our punishment was finished, we spent even more time together, though continued strictly with our chores. They watched us where they could see us, but we couldn’t see them. After a couple days, they began to feed us more nutritious food. I didn’t complain or question it. And at midnight, we would talk softly through the bars of the high window. Then I realized I was changing. It hit me when Griffin met me by our tree. His loving smile crashed into a horrified gap. His eyes were wide with warring emotions of love, hurt, and – most of all – fear. I immediately assumed the worst, thinking I was turned into some hideous creature. But when he shook me by my shoulders and started whimpering, What have we done? What have we done? They’ll never let us be together now. Frightened, I demanded what in the world he was talking about. He answered by taking my wrists and resting them upon my own stomach. It clicked instantly, and I broke down in tears. But I wasn’t mistreated once during those nine months, given healthy rich food, and even given a bed. Griffin never told me if he was getting the worst. He took up my responsibilities without a word. All the same, it was hell. The pain, the sickness – the hurt, for not being allowed near him most days. I wanted him by my side all through the hours of day and night, but they forbade it for fear of it affecting me wrongly. I watched in whirling emotions as my anorexic frame grew and widened into twice my size. An incredible thing, I realized, just in so wrong a place. If I did survive, if I did have a child, it would live anywhere but here. Any place not a stone-cold hell. When I awoke one morning to metallic screeching, I thought I would vomit. There was angelically cruel laughter, like someone enjoying watching another die. And the dying screams of the helpless creature. My heart hammered too hard against my ribs, my tears choking me. I could barely make a word; make a sound, because right then, I knew who was dying. There was fiery light flooding in from the adjourned window above me, flickering like flames. It was as if those flames were devouring me, every bite of agony snapping at Griffin was burning me. I wanted to scream and writhe and do everything in my power to save him. But we were separated by stone and metal, and that was how it would always be. Their laughter faded into voices as Griffin’s will to live began to ebb. I couldn’t imagine was horrible things they were doing to him. This is your punishment. You will stay here. We will provide. Whatever they provided, it would never be enough. When Griffin was as far dead as they liked, they tossed his mangled body in front of my cell. I threw up everywhere, tears mixing with my food. He was drenched in black-red blood, flesh and bone so contorted it was barely recognizable as human. I sobbed for the rest of the night and into the day, barely eating. I had never felt so much love, so much passion as I did for Griffin. Now he was gone. The only things I held dear now were my unborn child and my life. If I didn’t have my baby, then there was nothing left for me. One night, I was sleeping restlessly, plagued by nightmares of blood and moonlight. I heard a sound, a soft clicking, and hindered breathing. I jerked awake, body tense and racing with adrenaline. Had they come for me? I saw nothing in the darkness, nothing but pure shadow behind bars. There was no moonlight tonight. I felt exposed, undefended more than ever, like a lone leaf in a terrible hurricane. Anything could kill me in an instant. But as I searched in vain for movement, I felt my heart drop through the floor. Opening up faster than I expected were a pair of luminescent gold-silver eyes. They blinked, becoming wide-pupiled, and shone with power. They seemed to float in the darkness. Was this a cruel joke? I curled in the corner, hugging myself in fear, mind fruitlessly coming up with a solution to this. But I was simply too paralyzed to move. A jaw appeared under the eyes, baring razor-sharp, milk-white fangs. By the way of this, it was recognizable as a wolf. It growled, and the eyes and teeth melted into dark. I didn’t move, and a second later, a man’s face peered through the bars. He had the same eyes as the wolf. I didn’t know what he was. His face was weary, but animated at the same time – he was motivated. “Come on,” he beckoned in a sweet tone. He didn’t seem to want to harm me. “I’m getting you out. You have to hurry! Come!” I didn’t move a muscle. Was I supposed to follow a complete stranger with wolf eyes, who claimed to want to free me? How was I supposed to know he wasn’t going to kill me on the spot, or get me killed later? His gold eyes were shot through with silver. They flashed in sudden annoyance. “If you don’t come, you will die.” He nodded toward my stomach, which I wrapped my hands protectively around. “Along with your child. Come with me. Please. I have someplace safe for you.” When I didn’t answer, he grumbled. He gripped the bars between his hands, and with a look of intense concentration, he yanked. The entire wall of bars ripped off their rusty hinges and smashed against the wall behind the man. I was free, should I choose to move. I swallowed bile. Another second passed, and then the man took control. He carefully hoisted me up in his feverishly warm arms, pressing me to his hot chest. It was a balm to years of cold and decay. He ran through the dungeons, past stone and metal. We didn’t pass any of them, and for that I was grateful. Pain came in starbursts, but I bit it back and closed my eyes against the jolting of the man’s running. We reached fresh air, but he kept running. We didn’t stop, but if we ever did, I couldn’t remember… I do remember a few things. My past life was swept away, and Griffin will ever be in my heart.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey, guys! I hoped you read and enjoyed this! It is the Prologue of ‘Daylight & Snow’, a novel I’m hoping to publish one day – after a lot of proofreading and changes! But I wanted something dangerous, full of action and romance and blood and horror and fantasy; something that people won’t want to put down and love just as much as Twilight or The Hunger Games. Maybe it won’t be my first published book, because I love another one of my novel more (‘Ryder’s Angel’), but I promise I’ll get it up there someday, one way or another. There’s so much more to come, I promise! It goes from confusing to just a melee of whhhaaaaatttt? I’m working out the kinks, and I want this to be super complex but have all the crazy ties come together at the end in the epic finale. How I’m going to do that, I have no idea! Now, I have to make it up to 2,500 words. I am totally lost on how to do that because I’ve gotten what I want in this chapter, so… Sadly, I’m rambling. I’m not the best at it. so if you just want to stop here and not waste any more minutes of your young lives, then feel free to do so. I’m always looking for more people to look at my stuff. I’ve added chaos to my life and put myself and my work on a bazillion sites,

The author's comments:
Please leave a comment! I'd really appreciate it! And the formatting of the chapters is realy messed up - too squished - sorry about that :)


The moon was full, the cool breeze grazing the looming trees. Rays of moonlight splayed over every blade of lush grass. It was a beautifully eerie night, the only sounds being hoots of owls and whisper of wolves in the grasses.
But the pack of shape-shifters prowling within the shadows didn’t care. They lurked in the darkest of places, acting as shadows themselves, nothing but glowing eyes in the shelter of night. They watched from the tree line, waiting impatiently for any sign of movement. The leader of this group pawed the ground and snorted. His breath was visible in the air. His Second eyed him anxiously.
He snarled at no one in particular, but his comrades around him circled restlessly. This is ridiculous! he thought.
His Second touched his nose to his leader’s fur, warning him.
They will come, growled the First to himself. We are the guardians of this forest, and their human ran here.
Second’s muzzle transformed halfway, revealing a human’s mouth and tone. “Damien, relax,” he ordered, and was fully Shifted.
Damien whirled on his Second, baring razor-sharp teeth, his lip curling viciously. Automatically, Second kneeled in submission, fur on end. He knew the rules: never command a First, especially when he is on edge – especially when the First was Damien.
Damien rose to his full height, a least six feet. He was not going to be ordered by his lowly Second. But then he consoled himself quickly – his eardrum tickled; a sound at the tip of his hearing, something other than foliage or other animals. Quickly and with a low bark, he whapped Second on his muzzle. The other Shifter rolled aside, his comrades watching as he lay close to the ground and eyed Damien in shame.
Damien turned to see the blue-tinged plain before him. The sharp clarity allowed him to see every blade of grass, every leaf on every rowan tree, and the ruins hundreds of feet away. Just before that were the caves, where a shape moved forward slowly. Damien’s ears flattened, digging his claws into the soft soil to stop himself from leaping forward. All around him, his pack whimpered and paced madly.
Like an image forming in water, the shape emerged from dark and into the moonlight. Slender white objects folded behind her back, and even from here Damien could see her cold green-slitted eyes. Within minutes she was feet from him, dressed in all black, save her brilliant silver wings. But her cat eyes gleamed like jewels. Her pale lips were a thin line. “Borderline rules, Damien.” Her voice was like ice.
Damien felt searing heat scalding his nerves and bones, the humanness rushing back into his veins. He shook off clinging dirt and leaves. His senses dulled only slightly, and the angel seemed to stretch as he changed height. He glared at her with equal hostility and stepped back over the border, on his own side. Human now, he smiled wickedly. “Of course, Angeline. Anything for you.”
“Good,” she said without expression. Her gaze drifted over his pack, taking in each massive creature. When they returned to Damien, she gave him a look of impatience. “Well? What do you want?”
“You know very well what I want. Did you or did you not lose a prisoner tonight?” Damien saw her lip twitch in anger. She was very proud, and did not like to admit anything of correctness that came from his mouth.
She remained still and bitter, but pride wasn’t what caused her hesitation. Anger flared in her eyes like green flames. “We did, but it was your doing, Damien. Do not play games with me. Feigning innocence is not the way to appear.”
Rage spread like wave through not only him, but the rest of his pack. They growled and slinked through the forest. Angeline’s feathers and hair ruffled in the breeze. “You accuse me of crossing the border?”
“Not you directly, Damien. One of yours. Not two hours ago, we were under siege by a gold-eyed friend of yours. Stole away with…precious cargo, and we demand you give up the act.”
To accuse a shape-shifter wrongly was one thing. To accuse one on his own ground was another. And Damien certainly had no idea of what Angeline was speaking of. What the angels held in their caves was none of the Shifters’ business. “You know I am not involved in this, Angel,” Damien told her murderously. “If one of mine has crossed the border, then I will handle it.”
“You will not only handle it,” Angeline snapped. “You will end it. I want the thief caught and killed, and I want what was stolen returned.”
Abruptly, a shrill yowl split the moonlighted air like a claw. It went through Damien like a lick of fire, and pierced his heart – the howl was drawn-out and severely upsetting. It was a mourning signal that one of their own had died.
He looked at Angeline in infuriating horror as she spoke softly, “That must be the thief. My agents have found him long before yours.” She stared at him so intensely he felt she was staring straight at his heart, ready to rip it from his chest. “Collect his body, and meet me at the border when you find my prisoner.”
Scalding adrenaline was pumping throughout his body. It took every pounce of self-control he possessed not to tear her throat out. “I take orders from no one, Angeline.”
She glanced back at him as she was halfway down to the caves. Slowly the moon was sinking to admit the bleak horizon. Her silky black hair fell like a waterfall over her shoulders. “I believe you, Damien. But many more might be dead should you not retrieve my prisoner.”
His pack behind him was circling in immense agitation. He ignored them, baring his teeth at the angel. “What does a weak human woman hold for you, Angeline? Surely not anything important. If she is on our land, then she rightfully is our property.”
In that instant, Angeline was standing – barefoot – on the very line of the border, her ethereal face twisted in ugly anger. She was close enough for Damien to feel her cool breath, her presence sending unwanted shivers down his spine. Her eyes were dilated until they were nearly black. “She is not yours. She will never be. Return her or you will die.”
“Do not threaten me.” Damien wasn’t going to be intimidated by her, though she truly was terrifying. “I suppose I’ll look for her. Run back to your cave.”
Damien held his ground until she calmed, and she stepped back gracefully. The sharp angles of her face were much less sharp as her anger dissolved. She folded her wings behind her back, and they seemed to evaporate as she hid them from the Shifters’ views. “Very well then. Collect your dead and keep in mind the rules. I give you two weeks to bring her. Goodnight, Damien.”
In a single blink, Angeline was gone as if she had never been there. Damien’s pack whined as one, fur rising anxiously. They waited for Damien’s verdict, waiting to run to their comrade’s aide.
He stood frozen for a moment, the enormity of these past minutes sending waves of rare uncertainly through him. Finally, he turned to them. “Find him,” he ordered. “Both of them, and bring them back. We will see what is so important about this human woman, then we will return her should it seem fit.”
With their heads raised and long howls rising into the descending night, Damien’s pack raced away. He saw them melt into shadow, then stood still as the moon set like the sun. There was no other sign of movement. The sound of panting brought him from a short daze.
His Second was beside him, human, his deep hazel gaze worried. “Sir, come back with us. Maybe running will ease your mind.”
Damien licked his lips, which were dry. He still had to deal with Angeline, his dead Member, and a suddenly consequential human woman on his hands. Nothing would ease his mind. But he agreed, lunging into the trees as the fire burned away his human skin.

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This book has 1 comment.

whiterose GOLD said...
on Apr. 21 2012 at 1:14 am
whiterose GOLD, Independence, Missouri
14 articles 0 photos 34 comments

Favorite Quote:
The future lies before you, like a field of fallen snow; be careful how you tread it, for every step will show.

I really liked the prologue.  I noticed that you don't have any seperations in the paragraphs so that's my only comment...all in all it was a great story.  Keep writing, check out my work.