A/N: Hello, readers! This is my first ever FanFiction, and it is based around the world and characters from "How To Train Your Dragon", by DreamWorks. Before you begin reading, I'd just like to thank you for stopping and reading this FanFiction out of the many others that are published by the minute. Another thing I'd like to add, is that there are aspects of this story that are taken from my personal life. That could potentially be a dangerous move, but all of the original characters and locations are purely fictitious, and any resemblance of real people or locations is purely coincidental. Something else to point out is that this may go into some mature topics and themes, but I will give pointers about the content before each chapter so that nobody gets upset. I will take harsh criticism, which I am bracing myself for. Without further adieu, I present the prologue of my very first story, "Whatever The Night May Bring".

CONTENT WARNING: Some family issues are briefly addressed in this chapter.

Prologue - "Transitioning"

I'm underneath. Deep, buried, and lonely underneath layers upon layers of heavy, salty water. I'm almost so deep that the crashing waves on the surface are barely audible, like the slightest ripples from a leaking tap in an overflowing bathtub. All of the roaring anger from the shallows fades to a bellowing grunt as I sink weightlessly to the bottom of The Ocean. I don't struggle, or panic, or wave my arms and legs around frantically. I don't open my eyes, gaze up at the sun glistening through the blue haze and white tangles of cloud and hope that maybe I'll live to see what tomorrow will look like in the morning. I just let the ocean have me. I let it swallow me until I can't feel my body any longer. I sink so far that, eventually, my ears become blocked entirely. My exhausted mind finally lays to rest, free of any questions or answers or ideas or skills or knowledge. I've forgotten who I am.

I think that's my favourite part of the transition. Forgetting, and then becoming.

This all began a whole thirteen years ago, when I had just turned four, which is still one of the best darn birthdays I've ever had. From what I vaguely remember, my dad had been caught doing some things that he shouldn't have with some woman who lived a couple miles away. He and mum had been arguing like mad for just over an hour in the kitchen. A fair few instances of obnoxious shouting were abruptly ended with a china plate or a glass jug shattering against the wall after being clumsily thrown at one another. Meanwhile, my two older sisters and I sat in the living room on the floor, backs against the cold metal of the radiator, quietly eavesdropping on the situation. I daren't ask them what was going on, because they looked on the verge of attacking someone. So, I just sat, twiddling with a little red car toy that I had opened as a birthday present from my mum that morning. I ran the toy up and down the carpet, trying my absolute hardest in my brain to replace all of the annoying arguing with the sound of an engine revving before the wheels start spinning out of control, and the car speeds off into the distance, leaving a trail of dust behind. This nonsense continued, until my dad finally stopped being so defiant and deep in his own denial, and accepted the truth that he was wrong. He grabbed all of his stuff, and left. He slammed the door on all of us. He never said goodbye.

My sisters couldn't wait to see the back of him. Throughout the ordeal, they cursed him under his breath, meaning that I learnt a whole new language in one evening alone. It wasn't long after he fled our house that mum came into the living room, trying her hardest not to fall apart. I think she tried to be frank with me, but every word that filtered through her sobs was substituted for the sound of my toy car roaring through the birthday cake crumbs that had been spilled onto the carpet. I couldn't bare to look at her. I hated her, but still loved her too much to make her see that. Mum always said that I cared for other people's emotions more than my own, even at such a young age. So I ran straight upstairs, my toy car held tightly in my hand. As soon as I got to the top, I turned the corner into my bedroom, and slammed the door. I pulled my chair over to the door handle, so nobody could open it, no matter how hard they tried. Then I jumped into bed, curled up like a newborn baby inside my duvet, and eased myself to sleep.

It's hugely ironic how I would call this the best birthday ever, but I can't lie, because it was that very night while I was sound asleep, that I had my first encounter with "The Ocean". Although most people would call falling endlessly into an abyss until you feel the life draining out of your chest a harrowing nightmare, I really liked it. Something about death felt good, for some unknown reason, and I haven't even got into the best part of completing the transition; what happens after you pass through The Ocean.

It's just like waking up from a dream - your heart and mind are racing, and your forehead is dripping with sweat like a greasy cloth - but instead, you wake up into the dream. And it feels like a part of reality, like you've suddenly become someone else. Like you're living someone else's life. The first time I got past The Ocean and woke up inside of my dream, I was in a car. It was bright red all over, just like the toy car that I had initially got that morning. Everything in the car was smaller than an average car; my tiny feet could touch the pedals, my tiny hands could turn the steering wheel. I could even see over the dashboard. But as I said, it felt so real. It wasn't a dream that I consciously knew I was dreaming. Anyway, I checked the rearview mirror, and I saw my house surrounded by a mysterious mist. There were no houses either side, and nobody in sight. Come to think of it, there was only me, the car, the house, and a road which stretched out into the sunset. The warm orange glow cast over my eyes, and I knew that's where I wanted to be. Relaxing on a beach under the biggest palm trees you can imagine. No worries. Just me and myself. So I drove and I never looked back on my house where I knew my family were inside. I couldn't stand the arguing anymore. The more I told myself that, the louder the engine got.

It was that moment right there, that I knew… This was where I wanted to be. This separate universe, this wonderful substitution for the clichéd realities that life offered me. I could take all of this frustration, and change it into something that gave me a deep feeling of catharsis. But nothing lasts forever… Within a matter of seconds, I was awake again. Through the dull cloudiness, I saw that it was morning. The real morning.

My name is Sam Tuckerberry. I'm seventeen years old. I live in Southern Dersington, a small town in England. I go to Dersington College. I live with my mum and my step dad. Since my fourth birthday, I've discovered that I have a gift. That gift is what I call "Transitioning". It's something that is unique to me (since I cannot find any records of something like it ever existing), and over the years, it's something that I have learnt to live with and keep under control. It helps me be… me. This is the first time that I have recorded this on paper. I've never told a living soul, because I never know how. I realise this entire thing is jumbled and crazy, and probably barely makes any sense. It's for someone to read when I have left this world. Hopefully they, or you, will be able to make something out of it. Perhaps find out what it all means, I know I probably won't.

That is Transitioning. That is my story. And I hope that it can help someone. Someday. Somewhere.

Thank you for reading.

Sam.