Motionless In White A-m-e-r-i-c-a Novels & Stories

I thought I will see Dwyane once we entered the room, but I was wrong. The only thing inside this room is a table full of papers on it, air conditioner, water dispenser, and some shelves. I though this is the room where they leave Dwyane but there is something that caught my attention. There is a white door on the left side of the room. PO2 Lopez walks to it and then knocks. Another police man opened the door from the inside. Wow. Amazing. There is another room in this room.

The air became silent, and still, no one moved. It had been the talk for the past few days. Something from the past had returned. Something with perilous intent for all of mankind. Her father's soldiers had been sent forth across the sea to battle these things, these whispers, and while everyone was scared to say it, they knew it was a failed voyage, and none of those men were fated to return. Not with the bodies the waves kept washing daily to the coast. The soldiers had been graced with the powers of the Whites, an untold force that was meant to keep them alive, but no one believed that was even a thing. Because they hadn't seen it used. But hell was about to break loose. And this danger,

Pain tore through my body as if a brutal force was ripping me apart. Voices swirled around me. Someone was speaking, but the words were muffled and distant. "Rachel? Rachel…" My name. The voice was low, panicked. I tried my hardest to open my eyes, but I was drowning in the darkness. My body was too heavy to even move. Sounds of conversation reached my ears, though they were distant. "The ER is ready, Mr. Terrason." "Move it along." Samuel's voice. Cold and detached. My heart trembled, and a part of me woke up. 'ER? What ER?'

The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs, Upon the slimy sea. About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night; The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue and white. And some in dreams assurèd were Of the Spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep, he had followed us From the land of mist and snow.

A few high-fived each other, and a few more took a swig from a flask. We watched each other curiously until the door swung open, and many men marched in, filling the space. They all stared at me, but no one approached. As everyone settled, the man in the cowboy hat who had transported me came to the podium, and the crowd hushed. His cowboy boots kicked my cage, trying to get a reaction out of me. “Gentlemen!” He bellowed over the crowd. “We have the white wolf!” The cheers and yells were deafening. “God is with us, giving us the power to eradicate the abominations that roam our world.”

There were motorcycles everywhere. Black ones. Red ones. Some so loud that the sound seemed to vibrate through her chest. Men and women stood around them, laughing, talking, leaning against cars and bikes like this was the most normal Friday night in the world. It wasn't normal. Not for Amara. She looked down at herself. White blouse. Long cream skirt. Small handbag hanging from her shoulder. She looked like she'd walked out of a church service and accidentally taken a wrong turn. “This is a terrible idea,” she whispered.

Before I could answer someone had walked behind me lightly touching my shoulder. I quickly looked back when I saw a woman walking away into the crowd. I had never seen before. She had on a long sleeved black dress that went to the floor. The woman’s hair was pitch black with long wavy curls littering her head. She was extremely pale wearing bright red lipstick. I gasped when I reached her eyes. They were completely white it was unsettling. The woman was staring back at me with a creepy smile on her face. “I’m…. Um..not sure, but…”

Sunlight slanted over the corpse. The air was filled with an indescribable stench of decay, so intense it was suffocating. My skin had taken on a sickly grayish-green hue, swollen beyond recognition. The exposed muscles in my wounds had decomposed into a thick, viscous fluid. Time seemed to stop at that moment. Dad's gaze fell upon the barely distinguishable human form before Aunt Caroline. His pupils constricted. He looked like he'd been struck by a hammer. He was deeply shocked. "That's impossible," he mumbled in disbelief.

Mira clawed at her throat, her eyes wide, terrified, her fingers scraping at nothing as the invisible force tightened around her neck. Rowan lifted his other hand to finish it, and that’s when it happened. A flash of white. No, it wasn't white. It was blinding, holy even and almost impossible. It erupted right in front of Rowan, exploding outward like a star being born. Every warrior, every puppet, every creature on the field cried out and shielded their eyes. I fell onto my hands as the world turned winter white. “What…?!” Rowan snarled, stumbling back. The light reached my skin, warm, and familiar, and I just knew who it was.

For them, I could pretend to be just a useless, weak Omega. Nobody knew my real truth. They just saw a poor girl in oversized clothes. They didn't know that underneath the dirt and the drab dye I used to stain my hair, I was the last surviving White Wolf. “Hide it, Aisha,” my mother’s dying words always echoed in my mind. “If the Luna ever sees your white fur, she will kill you out of jealousy. Stay small. Stay hidden.” So, I stayed small. Even when Luna Mabel treated me like dirt under her expensive shoes.