Howls of Chaos
Howls of Chaos
I t'd been a while since I last visited the small Alabama town called Chaosville; perhaps a little less than two hundred years or so. The town had totally progressed since the eighteen hundreds. Chaosville now had factories, department stores, gas stations, and schools. It had fire stations, a police department, several grocery stores, a mall, and restaurants as well. The town also had a college that I had recently enrolled in, even though I am not even a year away from being two hundred years old.
There were so many new families and ethnic groups in the area. I remember the time when there were only a few ethnic groups-white, black, Native American, mulattos, Spaniards, and people of mixed origin.
Chaosville now had a greater variety of people of different ethnic groups and religions than they did in the early days. This sort of reminded me of being in California, which in my book was good because I'm mixed myself. My father was a Creek Indian, and my mother was a freed African slave. I was born in 1811.
At age fourteen, I was married to a Creek warrior named Strong River. We were happily married and had one son together named Little Hawk. We lived in one of the Creek villages near what is now the Chaosville area, but that was before I was attacked by a strange beast in the forest that caused me to become what I am today: an immortal.
This happened in 1830, when I was nineteen years old. Ever since I was attacked that night in the forest, I have remained nineteen.
Since then I have traveled throughout the world, witnessed the world progress and change for the better, and had other personal experiences as well. I have even fallen in love a time or two, but for some reason I keep running back to the same guy.
Even though I am not human, I tend to blend in with society and my main goal is to live life to the fullest. I am a student at Chaosville Community College where I am majoring in nursing. You would probably wonder why a werewolf-that's right, I am a werewolf-would go to college and major in nursing. Well dang, what else is there to do when all you have is time and you never age?
Oh, and excuse me for being rude, I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alexsys, Ms. Alexsys Four Rivers, and I know I don't spell my name like most Alexises do. I guess I try to be unique. I picked this name up right after I was turned. I spell Alexis without an i; in exchange, I add an s and a y before the s . So it is Alexsys.
I stand about five feet four inches tall with an average, athletic build. I have sort of reddish, dark-brown skin, high cheekbones, flat lips, dark-brown almond-shaped eyes, and long curly black hair that hangs down to the center of my back. Let's just say, I am the ideal description of what a black Indian looks like.
Anyway, like I said earlier, I am 199 years old. You're probably wondering how I was turned into a werewolf. Well, here it goes.
Back when I was mortal and living with the tribe, a handsome Spaniard named Carlos Fernandez would come into the village and sometimes trade with us. He was well-known among the settlers and the natives. Carlos was outstandingly sexy. Even though I was married to a Creek warrior, I still could not help but to notice him. Most of the women in the village would stare at him because he was so incredibly fine.
Carlos was in his late twenties, perhaps around twenty-eight. He was tall, over six feet, and had an athletic, muscular build as if he were a gladiator. His hair was jet-black and came down a little past his ears, with bangs that were combed to the side. His skin was smooth with olive tones and his eyes were brown, with a touch of honey. His lips were full and sexy, and when he smiled everyone around him would just gaze at his radiant white teeth. He was always well dressed and clean-cut. I figured he probably knew that he was a total hunk.