(Okay, this is a little thing I wrote quite a while back. Its raw and I don't think I've edited it at all. I have no idea where this tale is going so just flow with it, kay? Umm...I'm pretty sure that my character's started out as vampires but I had two other vampire stories going at the time and I needed a change. So, lazily I changed vampires to Changelings...Any review is greatly appreciated! Sorry and thanks..."
Chasers. The scum of our species. They chased us now. Through the streets of a strange town, we ran for our very lives. If they caught us they would interrogate us, trying to find other Roamers, wild ones, then they would terminate us. Our very existence was 'illegal'.
They said that we were dangerous and uncivilized, that we could threaten all the progress made after The Confession. I had always hated that name. What did we have to confess to the public? Nothing more than our presence. Confession- the admittance of a wrongdoing. What was so wrong about us? That we were different?
And what progress did they speak of? We were segregated and ridiculed, hunted and scorned. What was the point of The Confession? Did our leaders actually think that humans would accept Changelings as people? Did it matter that most of human stories about us were wrong? No. Humans would always see us as abominations.
After The Confession, the eldest of our species and the leaders of the human race met to make peace. Riots and vast waves of violence swept the world. Countless people were tortured and killed because their peers thought them to be Changelings. Most weren't. It was the Salem witch trials risen from the hearts of men. The leaders saw this and decided that something must be done. They were locked in a conference room for three days before an agreement was reached. Changelings were to be monitored by living in cities built for our specific use, have ID's on our person at all times, and seek government approval to wed or breed. If we violated these rules, then we would be killed. And humans, what compromise did they make? They would pay for our cities. Oh Joy, isn't equality just dandy?
But why are my sister and I so dangerous? There were some things that our Elders didn't tell the humans. The humans didn't know that we were physically superior, that our children could easily pass for human, and, most importantly that there was only one way to kill us.
If these secrets were to leak out, panic would spread once more. Humans would never tolerate us if they knew exactly how dangerous we could be to them. There would be mass genocide if they knew of our weakness. That's why the changeling community chose to put up with their rules, the fear of them finding out. If we were separated, then there was less of a chance that they would.
"Stop by command of The Order!" a chaser called after us. His massive form thundered after us, flanked by a tall, sleek woman and a lean older man. Morgan turned the corner first, her auburn hair blazing behind her. She led the way towards the marketplace, where the crowd of humans would protect us. The Chasers would never make a scene there and we could easily find a way to slip into the night.
The people we passed stared at us from behind dark sunglasses. They wondered about the two youths sprinting past. Where we in trouble? Did we need help or were we some kind of criminals? It didn't matter. No one had ever tried to interfere. They were to cowardly.
We burst from an alley onto Main Street with the Chasers a few feet behind. Ignoring a woman's squeal of surprise as she fell back into her husband, we merged into the crowd.
"Waterhole?" Morgan breathed. I nodded and we split up. Alone we would attract less attention and our gifts would be of more use, especially mine. The Waterhole war a bar and grill we had noticed the night before, and the place were we would meet after we lost the goons that trailed us.
We both knew the drill; wait until closing time, then hide out somewhere close by for the night. If one didn't show up, then it was best to leave, no matter how much it hurt.
Moving with the liquid grace and virtual invisibility of an accomplished pickpocket, I swiped clothes from the vendors without pause. First, a leather jacket, sliding it on as it slid from the rack. Then, throwing my hat to the ground and trading it for a knitted cap.
All the time I was putting my Changeling genes to good use. Slowly, my skin darkened and my hair stretched to twice its original length. Disguise, camouflage, that was my ability. To change my appearance. Shape-shifting, but limited to one humanoid shape. Really just detail-shifting.
I stopped at a vendor and didn't have to pretend to be interested in the well-worn books that were thrown in a huge metal bin. Books were rare and these were a good find.
The dangerous-looking female Chaser passed by looking slightly confused. No doubt her trio had viewed me as weaker than Morgan - I was a bit smaller and far less intimidating- and thought it best to send the men after her. The Chaser's eyes were black and empty, with the dull, glazed over inexpressiveness of low intelligence. She smoothed her blonde bangs away from her face and turned a small circle, searching for me.
"I'll give you five." I offered the vendor that approached. He rubbed the hair on his double chin and smiled. Bits of food sprouted from his teeth like weeds from a sidewalk.
"For what, Honey?" His tongue lapped like a dying fish as he spoke, pushing the putrid smell of ranch dressing towards me. I gritted my teeth and held up Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Hmm, I don't know. That's a good one. I'll sorely miss it."
"Look, mister, five's all I got. Take it or leave it." I said as I turned a bit to see the Chaser. She had ventured up the road a bit, but she was still turning circle compulsively. Her gaze rolled by me without pause or recognition.
"Alrighty, no need to get testy. Five'll do." the vendor said. I handed him the cash and headed for an alley. I was safe now. All I had to do was wait for Morgan.
The Waterhole was a smallish place with an African theme. Sweeping landscapes adorned the walls and the mounted heads of Antelope and other game stared with a stillness I found unappetizing. But the air-conditioning felt nice and the food smelled even better so I took a trophy-less corner and took a look at the menu. The food wasn't expensive and despite what I had told the vendor, I had a little money.
"Ready to order?" a young waiter asked. He was tall and talked with an accent that I couldn't quite place. Maybe he was actually from Africa.
"Yeah, I'll have a burger and a coke." I said, feeling strangely ashamed at having ordered such an American meal.
"'s that all?" I nodded so he turned and headed back for the kitchens.
Alone and not particularly interested in the television babbling away, I cracked open Dorian Gray and immersed myself in the corruption.
"Dorian Gray?" a familiar voice said just as I finished the preface. Morgan smiled at me from across the table. Somehow she could always tell it was me. "Haven't you read that before?"
"Why do non-readers always ask that? Is it really hard to grasp that a good book will always make you feel the way you did when you first read it? At home, surrounded by friends."
The waiter came then and set my burger and coke in front of me. He turned to Morgan. "Would you like anything?"
"Umm, I think I'll have what she's having but with cheese. Thanks." she smiled at him and he went back the way he came. Then, her smile became a grin and her eyes set on me. "I'm not a non-reader."
"Yeah, you are," I insisted. "I can always tell."
"How?"
"A non-reader will always ask 'Haven't you read that already?' like an accusation. An avid reader asks 'Have you read that before?' and they get this gleam in their eye. An excitement caused by someone else discovering a treasure that they had known about." I said between bites of burger.
Morgan rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I think you're just making that up."
I shrugged and finished off my hamburger. Not wanting to talk to Morgan about the book, I changed the subject. "You got away fast. What happened?"
Now, her face lit up. "I jumped off a cliff!" she declared.
I sputtered coke and the waiter appeared before I recovered. He sat her meal down and winked at Morgan. She smiled and batted her eyes. There was no question, his number would be on the receipt.
"A cliff?" I demanded after he left.
She nodded excitedly. "Uh huh. It was awesome! Not like slang awesome, the awe-inspiring kind of awesome! You know I've been working with my telekinesis? Trying to float? Well, I decided to test it out. And it worked! I was basically flying!"
"But a cliff? You couldn't have tried it on something a little less...insane?"
"Well, I was having trouble getting away so I was a little desperate." Morgan said through her beef-filled mouth. "But the point is; it worked!"
I sighed and surrendered. She was right, it was extremely awesome.
Nothing major, but quick grammar fixes like that will mean less time on spelling, more on the story.