The Ghost Prince
By Chrizzie1
Prologue
The war against the Ghost Zone had been raging for many years now. So long that people could barely remember what it was like to live in the more peaceful times, before the ghosts descended from their domain and every day became a struggle to survive.
On the 19th of October 1997 an army of ghosts lead by King Plasmius attacked. Many people died that day and even more were severely wounded. The human race was simply unprepared for such a cataclysm.
After that day everything changed. Companies invested in ghost hunting institutions. Governments diverted millions upon millions of dollars in funds to the military and paranormal research facilities. Various defence mechanisms were built seemingly overnight in largely populated areas. These were the darkest days in human history – at least, that's what the textbooks say.
I was only six years old at the time; too young to understand what was happening, but I have never had to struggle to remember the look of sheer terror on the faces of everyone I saw. It was a time of little hope. How could we, mere human beings, hope to stand against an army of supernatural beings that up until that time most of us thought not to exist? How could we fight something that we could neither see nor touch? How could we stand against creatures with the ability to manipulate energy blasts, creatures who could out fly a car travelling at highway speed? It was unthinkable. Yet despite this, people have survived and are still surviving – not living, surviving.
It was not a pleasant existence. Especially not for those of us who still remembered a little of what it was like in those carefree days before the war, when people could have fun, when the shops sold toys and sweets, when the sun shone without the ashes of war to spoil it, when there was always hope for tomorrow, for a future. Now there was only the war. All that mattered was learning to fight, to invent and strategise, to find a way of defeating the army of ghosts. There were no sweet shops, no ice-cream stands, no trips to the park on a Sunday afternoon, no time to rest.
I heard screaming in the distance. Gunfire and destruction. It was nothing new. These were the sounds of the night, of every night, in this day and age. These were the sounds of a decade old war.
And as I gazed out my window on this sleepless night I wondered what it would've be like to have grown up in a peaceful world.
A/N: Well that's about it. A simple little introduction, just for background knowledge. The real story begins next chapter (when I write it…)