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If anyone would have
said two years ago that I would be socializing with the supernatural and that I
would be part of it myself, I would probably have called the men in white coats
faster than you could blink. But now, it's all part and parcel in the tapestry
of my existence. Well it has to be that way when your boyfriend bites you and
you become a werewolf like he is. Or least I imagine so.
So honestly, if I could say one thing about my
life, it's that it surprised me so far. But, it also had its tragedies.
A week earlier, the alpha werewolf of a local pack was
killed by a bullet wound to the head. His name was Campbell Langford and he had
led his pack for more than ten years with a kind of authority that many would
consider to be both intimidating and impressive.
At exactly eleven o'clock, we were sat in my flatmate Zoe's
car ready to go the church. I had almost protested about giving us a lift but
upon seeing the look of determination on her face, I decided it wasn't a wise
move. She was a witch, and wasn't afraid to use her magic.
In the back seat of her car were my boyfriend Doug, Arc, my
flatmates boyfriend and finally Shadow, who was both my son and Doug's. To cut
a long story short, a good friend used a little magic to give us a son who was
in his early twenties just as we were. That was useful to say the least because
I wasn't sure how I felt about raising a child.
Halfway through the journey, I turned back to look at my
boyfriend, I frowned slightly because he was as silent as silence itself. I
decided that making conversation wasn't the best thing to do and returned to
facing the front of the car. After sighing, I looked down in the pockets of the
car and found a small birthday card lodged in between a few sheets.
Even on a day like today, I had to smile at the card Doug
had got me for my birthday. The message inside the card was simple yet
effective.
Dear Taylor
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Even though you stole
my heart
I'll always love you
From Doug
Now I was immortal,
ageing didn't happen for me but it was nice that Doug remembered my special
day. He had taken me out for an expensive meal at the local restaurant, bought
me the new series of Ashes to Ashes on DVD and we had even gone out for a midnight
howl to celebrate.
Needless to say, I was speechless at the end of the day by
how generous he had been, considering we were all in mourning.
The first time I met Campbell, we hadn't clicked, but since
then we had formed a friendship. But the only reason he had disliked me was due
to his mistrust of humans. And that stemmed from the fact he had been thrown
out of his village after being changed.
Some people could be so heartless, I realised. But of
course, it was all part of life and some people had more to deal with than
others did. I would say the old box of chocolates analogy but it has been used
so many times it has lost all meaning.
Eventually arriving at the church after stuck behind a few
buses, we all got out of Zoe's car and walked into the atrium. Both packs had
already arrived dressed in their best clothes. Well some of them were. A few of
the less respectful or ones who had no common sense were simply dressed in
simple clothes.
After chatting briefly to a few beta werewolves, I walked
over to Stephen, Campbell's son who was talking with Jenna, Campbell's former
lover. They saw me approaching and after a moment, turned to my direction.
"I am so sorry Jenna" I said after a moment.
"Thank you" she replied with forced calm.
Stephen shifted uneasily on his heels and looked over at
Doug who was talking to Shadow by the stained glass window.
"How is Doug?"
"He's coping. It hit him really hard"
Stephen nodded. His eyelids looked very dry because of all
the crying he had been doing. I shook Jenna's hand, then did the same for
Stephen's. After I had done this, the doors to the main area of the church
opened and the reverend came out.
"If you're ready, we'll begin" he said in a
neutral yet sympathetic tone.
We carefully walked into the church and sat down. In the
background, someone had placed an orchestral version of the song 'Candle in the
Wind'. I groaned to myself at the cliché but decided not to elaborate on it
because if the song meant something to them, they had every right to play it in
his honour. Even if he didn't agree. Which to be honest, I don't know if he
would have or not.
When everyone was in a seat, the reverend walked up to the
lectern and cleared his throat.
And with that, the funeral began.
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