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OtterySt.Catchpole · 12-16-2009, 11:47 AM

I begin with a joke then we continue our story, shall we?

Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and their parents knew all about it. If any mischief occurred in their town, the two boys were probably involved. The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon. The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son ?"

The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?"

Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!"

The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?"

The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time, GOD is missing, and they think we did it!"

Connie: Conners, you're always reading which is so cool. Mandelbrot is a word I knew, I just had no clue what it meant. I looked it up, it has to do with math and my interest waned from there ... I'm an English major so sue me

you can wiki it though, but don't ask me to explain it.

Solemnity Fields has a sister named Strawberry

and she may or may not appear in this story.

I just HATE sitting at the story trying to figure out a name for a character so I usually pick something that sounds really cool, hence Mandelbrot and Solemnity.

SeerCassandraTrelawney: Thank you Cassandra, and will do. I'm getting back on the writing horse and as always, my HP Fanfiction is leading the charge

harita: I was hoping it was something more artistic

and

just tween us harita that cat wasn't just sitting there ... *ahem* he's a character too *ahem*

But now, onto the story.

A cold winter's chill gripped the world that night, in an embrace that promised only to grow colder. Love is a fleeting thing, he thought to himself as he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his long black fuzzy coat. It was funny how he liked to wear fuzzy jumpers and shirts. If he 'wolfed out' as Tommy liked calling it, then he'd be covered in a long grey fur coat of his own, natural and a lot warmer too. Of course, the blood pumped more furiously, his heart beat a million times faster, and through his eyes he could mostly see red, that and he snuffled, drooled, loped, breathed heavily and howled at the moon. Mainly if he was angry but he mostly turned into a werewolf when he was angry. Being an assassin meant killing people, not 'wolfing out' and then killing people. Still, some people made a simple job difficult and well, it was not like anyone ever hired him to kill nice people anyways, right?

He stood under the lamplight and waited. His contact would be a girl, he hoped she'd be pretty but from what Booster had told him she was a tall, red haired girl with large gorgeous lips she painted a floozy red, and a mean kick. How Booster knew that, well, Alek knew better than to ask, Booster was not a ladies man.

He sighed, his hot breath turning into soft mist to join the foggy London night haze. Alek sighed again and started to walk off. He had waited for an hour already, and he wasn't getting paid for it.

"Are you Wolf Hunter?" a voice called out in the empty street.

The dark haired boy turned around. He could see no one anywhere within listening distance. But he knew better than to merely trust his sight. She stood by the lamppost he had just walked away from, under an invisibility cloak. He could smell the faint traces of butterbeer under the Chanel.

He growled.

"Are you or aren't you? I haven't got a lot of time to be wasting," she complained. He could smell the elder of her wand drawn and ready to fire at his heart. Alek wondered what kind of spell a made up, princess, snob would use on a boy from the wrong side of the ... oh blast the tracks, the wrong side of the wizarding world.

"You called me honeybunny, you're the one wasting my time. Come find me when you want to talk seriously and you're willing to stop laying these stupid little amateur's games."

Alek started to walk away, and stopped as a spell blast scorched the sidewalk a step ahead of him. The sound of a robe falling made him turn. He caught his breath.

"I know you," he said in a whisper that carried softly on the wind.

:O

AN: Not much again, but something ...

12-16-2009, 11:47 AM	#17 (permalink)
OtterySt.Catchpole SS Featured Artist DA Poet Rupert is My Man! SS100 Triumphant Aethonan Join Date: Jul 2004 Location: The Wicked House Posts: 18,909 Hogwarts RPG Name: Ottery St. Catchpole Gryffindor Third Year	While the cats away the wolf will play? Paris & Kellybear r luv :Read Otty 's fics:Gone With the Wind:I♥Rupert I begin with a joke then we continue our story, shall we? Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and their parents knew all about it. If any mischief occurred in their town, the two boys were probably involved. The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon. The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, "Do you know where God is, son ?" The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, "Where is God?" Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, "Where is God?!" The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, "What happened?" The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, "We are in BIG trouble this time, GOD is missing, and they think we did it!" Connie: Conners, you're always reading which is so cool. Mandelbrot is a word I knew, I just had no clue what it meant. I looked it up, it has to do with math and my interest waned from there ... I'm an English major so sue me you can wiki it though, but don't ask me to explain it. Solemnity Fields has a sister named Strawberry and she may or may not appear in this story. I just HATE sitting at the story trying to figure out a name for a character so I usually pick something that sounds really cool, hence Mandelbrot and Solemnity. SeerCassandraTrelawney: Thank you Cassandra, and will do. I'm getting back on the writing horse and as always, my HP Fanfiction is leading the charge harita: I was hoping it was something more artistic and just tween us harita that cat wasn't just sitting there ... ahem he's a character too ahem But now, onto the story. A cold winter's chill gripped the world that night, in an embrace that promised only to grow colder. Love is a fleeting thing, he thought to himself as he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his long black fuzzy coat. It was funny how he liked to wear fuzzy jumpers and shirts. If he 'wolfed out' as Tommy liked calling it, then he'd be covered in a long grey fur coat of his own, natural and a lot warmer too. Of course, the blood pumped more furiously, his heart beat a million times faster, and through his eyes he could mostly see red, that and he snuffled, drooled, loped, breathed heavily and howled at the moon. Mainly if he was angry but he mostly turned into a werewolf when he was angry. Being an assassin meant killing people, not 'wolfing out' and then killing people. Still, some people made a simple job difficult and well, it was not like anyone ever hired him to kill nice people anyways, right? He stood under the lamplight and waited. His contact would be a girl, he hoped she'd be pretty but from what Booster had told him she was a tall, red haired girl with large gorgeous lips she painted a floozy red, and a mean kick. How Booster knew that, well, Alek knew better than to ask, Booster was not a ladies man. He sighed, his hot breath turning into soft mist to join the foggy London night haze. Alek sighed again and started to walk off. He had waited for an hour already, and he wasn't getting paid for it. "Are you Wolf Hunter?" a voice called out in the empty street. The dark haired boy turned around. He could see no one anywhere within listening distance. But he knew better than to merely trust his sight. She stood by the lamppost he had just walked away from, under an invisibility cloak. He could smell the faint traces of butterbeer under the Chanel. He growled. "Are you or aren't you? I haven't got a lot of time to be wasting," she complained. He could smell the elder of her wand drawn and ready to fire at his heart. Alek wondered what kind of spell a made up, princess, snob would use on a boy from the wrong side of the ... oh blast the tracks, the wrong side of the wizarding world. "You called me honeybunny, you're the one wasting my time. Come find me when you want to talk seriously and you're willing to stop laying these stupid little amateur's games." Alek started to walk away, and stopped as a spell blast scorched the sidewalk a step ahead of him. The sound of a robe falling made him turn. He caught his breath. "I know you," he said in a whisper that carried softly on the wind. :O AN: Not much again, but something ... __________________