May's best friend dies for a mysterious reason. Can she find a way to solve this death?
The play went very well but for Hunter it ended in tears. Sitting in the back of the drama room he was found crying. Shell talked to about what was wrong. The fact that May and Jane would never be able to congradulate him afterward really hurt. I pained him to know that they had gone under the hands of a monster. A down right nasty villain whose kind never belonged on the planet or in our imaginations, the vampire had to be extrapated from our world. Hunter had nothing against the existing McCoy’s but he didn’t think that vampire kind should exist any more.
Of course at the moment Hunter was just a teenager. But after school he definitely wanted to become a vampire slayer or study abnormal activity in the area. Silly considering that this is stuff dreams are made of but honestly what do we know? Vampires, werewolves and sorcerors could very well be real. Only hiding in the suburbs away from the bustle of city life, not to mention that it was risky for such creatures to live so close to humans being meer mortals and all. It was fine if they didn’t have the books that they now possessed. Books that speak of their kind as if they in fact existed when indeed they did exist, were dangerous. So it was better for everyone if they were hidden in the shadows. People would never know if they existed for real or not. That was unless they read between the lines in the crime section of the paper.
This is what Hunter wanted to know, he wanted to know if these such beings existed and if they did, keep the good ones and get rid of the ones that could very well endanger the whole world. If there were things that were as distructive as vampires then they needed to be destroyed and controlled. Otherwise they may take over. It’s sort of bad that Hunter thought this way because it took away from the wonder of the world, and if you destroyed all evil then you left room for error in the perfectionist’s world. Perfection was horror and as far as people were concerned perfection was worse than flaws and if you pointed all of the flaws in others out then you left yourself big headed and drowning in the socal pool.
So what’ s Hunter doing now? Well now Hunter’s working on the latest production at his private school. Helping the art department paint the backdrops and rehearsing his heart out. This is the biggest production since the Dramatic Arts Festival they held three years ago. As for his climb in the super natural ladder he was about half way to fulfilling his dream.
The ashes of James McCoy will become dust to all who cross his grave seeking to raise the dead. And raise the dead they will for James McCoy will never walk the earth again without being killed once again. For a killer be, a lover dies. And when a lover dies then all happiness goes along with them. For love for some is true happiness while love can be a slow version of suicide.
Hunter wants to be around to make sure that nothing of the sort ever happens again, so that no one will feel the horrid pain that comes a long with lose friends in the fashion that he had to bear. If his thoughts are selfless then that’s good because no one can then turn and say he was being selfish.
Now more than ever Hunter knows the meaning of love, and the meaning of hate, Hunter hates everything about James and everything that has anything to do with the innocent dying. Knowing them or not. Looking at older people who have seen a lot of death Hunter knows that he doesn’t want to become shoe leather as they seem to now be. For seeing death is no different then watching a replay of that persons life for the last time in eternity. It’s a paining real that seems to haunt you until you die yourself. That’s when your finally relieved of it while other’s watch your life pass before their eyes while you meet back up with old friends.
Now some authors would have that be a death scene once again. But no Hunter lives on, and on. For people to hear his story of how he’d watched both of his friends die in the same year. I assure you that if you go away with a tear in your eye. That you have read this book properly, not that there is a proper way to read a book.
Some books are meant to be devoured,
While others have to digested much more slowly
Until we meet again…
Thank you to everyone who may have contributed to this in anyway.
There are way too many people to thank.
So please forgive me for this terrible thanks.