I used the first paragraph of one of my other stories, so if it seems familiar thats why. Please review, i know its long.

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Chapter 1

All was silent. Not the nice silence that makes you feel calm and comforted, but the dark eerie silence that makes you twitch nervously. The kind of silence that scares you because there shouldn’t be silence, like you should be hearing something you’re not. The kind of silence that hangs in the air like mist, the kind of silence that seems to cling to your skin with cold, formless fingers. The kind of silence that makes people on the street quicken their pace in unprovoked alarm or start at the slightest sound, makes clammy sweat break out on their brow.

It was partly this silence that had me running for my life. But mostly it was because I was being chased by… something. What? I had no clue. But whatever it was, it was out to get me. Or maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was just the postman running after me with a really exciting package. At 10:30 at night. Riiight…

So anyways, I was running for my life. Let me tell you, it’s not fun. It involves a lot of breathing. A lot. I threw another pointless glance over my shoulder, though I knew all I would see was a sheet of eerie fog. My muscles were all screaming in pain and a jarring sensation shot through my shins each time my feet pounded the sidewalk. My eyes scurried around in the darkness and found a small alleyway to my left.

Thinking quickly, I made a sharp turn. The walls on either side of me were brick and covered in graffiti, like the dark alleys from horror movies. Not an encouraging sign. At the end of the small lane were two large garbage bins and a chain link fence. Great. I accelerated my speed and sprinted toward the garbage bins, using momentum to swing up onto them.

With a small moan, I hauled myself over the fence. And cleared it. Or so I thought. My jeans snagged onto a crooked wire and I let out a small gasp of surprise. Instead of landing smoothly as planned, I landed with a jarring thump to my knees, tumbled to the ground, skidded on my left forearm and hit my forehead on solid asphalt. Using momentum and pure adrenaline, I rolled up onto my feet and staggered into a run. I hastily wiped the blood off my forehead and arm before glancing over my shoulder. Through the fog, I could make out a dark figure approaching. Was it even human? I shook my head; whatever it was, it was gaining on me. My aching knees protested to the sudden increase in speed and I held my arm rather stiffly at my side as I followed the small side street on my left. My spirits fell as I realized it was not a street a recognized. I was lost.

I dragged in a huge gasp for air, feeling my eyes widen at the effort required. It burned my throat like sandpaper on the way down. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and continued to glance around frantically for an escape. Before me, the street curved and opened up into a familiar firehouse. Memories of second grade field trips flashed through my mind, demented and rushed. Was this what is like to face impending doom? Random flashbacks and pain?

However random the flashbacks were, they aided me in remembering where the fire escape ladder was. With another anxious glance over my shoulder, I rounded the corner of the firehouse, gauged the height of the ladder, jumped, grabbed the cold bar, and swung myself up. My fingers fumbled with the bars and I made my way nervously up the ladder, an odd metallic taste in my mouth.

That was when I decided that whatever was chasing me was most definitely not my postman. It launched itself onto the roof in one jump, nearly nine feet up!

The next moment was when I laid my eyes on my worst nightmare. At first, I thought it was a bear. Then I realized that it had a distinctly feline form, but it was too big, bigger than a lion and its eyes were too intelligent, chillingly bloodthirsty, an eerie bright red, glistening with orange tints. Its’ fur was a silvery black, ruffled but still shining in the dim moonlight. The moonlight! I looked up at the sky for the first time that night and saw that it was a full moon.

Intuition rippled down my spine, infusing me with fear and adrenaline. Werecat. I had heard whispers of teasing myths, seen websites that claimed truth in their existence. Fools, I had thought, Idiots. It’s impossible. But why was it so impossible? After all, I believed in tigers and wolves, I had read science articles claiming the lunar cycle to affect dog behavior. Why not?

The werecat snarled a deep yet keening sound that cut through the fog and into the depths of my heart before it dropped into a crouch. I took an unconscious step back, feeling my muscles tense. My heart was panicking in my chest and I worried it would provoke the werecat, the sound of blood pulsing through me. It pulled its lip back to reveal a row of large glinting white fangs. Were those bloodstains on the teeth?

From that point, it all happened very fast.

The werecat tensed and flung itself at me with such speed and agility that I wondered how I ended up dodging to the side. But the huge cat turned on one paw and before the momentum had carried it through that motion, leaped at me again. I dodged, but not quick enough this time. It cuffed my shoulder and I fell to the ground, sprawled on my back. I don’t know when or how the cat’s teeth made contact with my right forearm but the effect was immediate.

A sudden pain burst through my arm where the cat bit, like fire it spread through my veins, burning, raging, consuming everything else. I felt my hand clench into a fist, felt the weight of the cat on my chest, the unbearable agony in my arm. Suddenly the weight on my chest was gone, knocked clean off. I heard low snarling, the chilling sound of teeth snapping, claws tearing. Then, with a high-pitched whine, the sound was gone.

With nothing to distract me from the burning nova of agony that was my arm, I fainted.

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I slipped in and out of consciousness, never comprehending anything but pain. It was spreading. The intense burning sensation now occupied my entire right arm, my head, and my upper torso. I was desperate to unravel what had happened but the compulsive headache acted as a black hole, consuming all thought, leaving me with no distractions from the pain. Every once in a while, it faded and I was able to feel my exhausted body, limp and exhausted, but when it started I could feel my body struggling against something, jerking and twisting in spastic bursts of pain. I could hear the voice I recognized as my own, screaming in agony, desperate for relief. Then I would sink back into the encompassing inevitability of torture.

Eventually, something broke through the pain, something reassuring, soothing, and sympathetic. A voice. I began to look forward to the voice; my only escape from what I was sure was death although I thought everyone said death was quick and painless. I could never tell where the voice was coming from, but it numbed the pain slightly and for that I near worshipped it.

“It’s okay. It will stop, I promise. Shh, stop screaming. I promise you’ll be okay, it will be alright. I promise,” the voice would say. Every time it spoke to me, it promised I would be okay. But the pain hadn’t stopped yet. Was it lying?

The pain was everywhere now. It was the worst it had ever been. The voice was lying! It was evil, I hated it! I screamed at the voice, begged it to make it stop, accused it of all that hurt, I hated the voice!

But it was dulling now, less of a poisoned fire and more of a numb pressure everywhere.

And then, after one last burst of unbearable pain, it stopped with a suddenness that left me breathless.

My eyes flew open and I absorbed the scene before me with incredible speed. I was in a white windowless room, on a small bed in the corner, staring up into the face of a pale, blonde, middle-aged man.

“Hello,” he smiled.

I stared blankly at him as my mind registered the obvious; he was the voice. I recognized it immediately, recognized what I thought had been my savior and then what I thought had lied to me. I also realized that I had been wrong to think he was lying, seeing as the pain was gone. The only discomfort I felt was the ache in my muscles, weary from enduring so much.

“What the heck happened to me?” I asked groggily, yawning and rubbing my forehead absently.

“You transformed,” he answered simply, his blue eyes penetrating mine.

My eyes widened as I realized what he meant. I don’t know about you but it didn’t seem like a very skillful way to drop the bomb on me. “You mean I…? And that…? And you…?”-I gestured awkwardly in his direction and then raised my hand to my head again-“So I’m…?” I stuttered unintelligibly in disbelief for a couple of minutes before leaning back into the pillow and closing my eyes.

He nodded, eyes still searching mine, perhaps for a clue to how I was going to react next.

I was still too stunned to move. My mind slipped and scrambled around, still trying to wrap itself around the concept.

I’m a werecat?! This is ridiculous! These kind of things don’t happen in real life! Maybe this isn’t real life, maybe I’m still in bed at home dreaming, maybe I didn’t take the long way home, maybe I’ll wake up safe and warm, yah right and maybe the moon is made out of cream cheese… there was way too much pain for a dream. A person can’t just imagine that kind of pain in a dream.

So now, I just had to face the facts. And the facts (or the believed facts, I still wasn’t fully willing to accept that I had just been turned into a werecat) were: one, that I had just been mauled and bitten by a mythical creature, two, that I had just turned into a werecat and three, that I was most likely losing my mind. Seeing as I was already going mad, I decided to go along with it.

“So,” I sat up, facing the man again, “Now that I’ve gone completely insane, would you mind telling me who the heck you are and why you’re here?”

The man looked surprised, then he smiled and answered, “My name is Rourke Wooten, I am also a werecat and I saved your life.”

“Why? I mean, wouldn’t you want to kill me too?” I had a feeling this was going to be confusing.

“Yes and no.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, because it is in my nature to kill and no because we’re running low on recruits and you nearly escaped a full-grown werecat. I can’t believe Guerin didn’t see it, but he always was a fool. Pity I had to kill him though.”

“So Guerin was the guy trying to kill me and you killed him but he bit me so now I’m… wait! What do you mean recruits? Are you fighting some sort of war?!”

Rourke looked at me as if I had asked… well, as if I had asked a very stupid question, and answered, “Werecats are always fighting a war.”

I waited.

He stared.

“Against…?” I probed.

“Various enemies,” he answered dismissively.

Don’t you just love it when people get straight to the point like that?

The annoyance must have shown on my face because Rourke

answered, “Look, I can’t explain it to you right now. It’s not safe. Can you move?”

Ugh… moving was about the last thing I wanted to do right now.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

Hmm, walk or have some random stranger old enough to be my dad carry me? Tough choice, that. “Nah I’m good.”

He smiled, “Follow me then.”

Oh joy, this was going to be fun.

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well thats the first chapter, hope you liked it! please review!