It is the year 1892, and a young half-Brachen demon is in bed at the moment. He is nineteen years old today, and he had no friends to celebrate with...
One lonely evening, half-Brochen parents out for awhile, Doyle awoke from a restless sleep from a knock on the door. He rubbed his eyes, stretched his arms, and checked the clock; eight at night. He arose from the couch he was sleeping on, and opened the door.
"Yes?" Doyle said through the crack in the door. A man stood there; he had dark brown hair, with sparkling bluish-green eyes, and held a letter in his hand.
"A letter for Mr. Doyle...that's you, I am assuming?" the man said, staring at Doyle. Doyle, closed his eyes, his head bowed, slowly opened them, and looked up again.
"Yes, that's me," he said finally. "Thank you." He took the envelope from the man, and closed the door. I wonder who it's from? He thought. Doyle teared the yellow envelope open, and unfolded the piece of paper.
Dear Mr. Doyle,
I do regret to inform you that, due to recent events, you have neglected payment on your house. We will therefore have to ask you to leave, if you do not pay back the money that you owe. I will send one of my colleagues out this evening to clear out the situation. We do not wish for this to go further than it already has. If this continues for any longer, we will have to take you into custody.
Sincerely,
Mortgage and Financer:
Alec Griffin
"That's just wonderful," Doyle murmered. Sure; his parents were broke, and he certainly had no money. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to give up the house. He had to lay low, or else the demon-hunters from the outside world would catch and slay him.
Times were rough, and demon-hunters were everywhere. In a way, Doyle was a bit hard to sniff-out, for he was only half-demon. Besides the fact, he had already been tracked down once, and barely got the chance to break free. The Powers That Be, immortal guardians who watch over the world, kind of like God, had blessed him with the sight.
He got visions regularly. Painful ones, yes. Ones about people dying, or getting tortured—something he would much rather not see. Now, Doyle wanted to help people. It is true, yes, but he hasn't discovered his strength yet. He thinks he is feeble and vulnerable to things.
"I better go visit Sarah, God rest her soul..." Doyle thought aloud. And so he slipped on his black leather jacket, and headed out the door, about to visit the cemetary not far off.
A/N: Sooo.....what did'ya think?? It's a story I've made up about Doyle's past. Please, R/R!!