Chapter 1

John's POV

John leaned against the cold brick wall and breathed a shaky breath. It was the middle of the day and John felt as if the sun was baking him alive. He breathed again and clutched the hot dog he had just stolen to his heart. "Finally," John muttered, " a decent meal." For John had not eaten in two days.

If you have not guessed it already, John was an orphan. He lived in Manhattan in a back alleyway near Central Park. John bit into his hot dog. It tasted delicious, like every hot dog should. As he ate John thought about where he would sleep tonight. Yesterday it had been a sewer. Before that a cardboard box. John was tired of sleeping in odd places as he had been doing so for over seven years, ever since his mom had mysteriously disappeared.

John thought back to that time, when he was six years old. His mother had just left to go out for a while and had left him in the care of Laura, his elderly babysitter. Yes, John remembered his mother well. Dark hair, blue eyes, just like himself, although he thought the combination of the two was kind of strange. Anyway, long after John's mother was supposed to arrive home again, Laura had made a chain of hasty phone calls. She never located John's mother, but she did find out that his mother had never arrived in her initial destination. With nothing else to do, Laura took John to an orphanage. It was a nice place but there was one problem. It was crowded. Just imagine how many orphans would be in one of the busiest places on earth. John, liking the freedom of space, decided to leave, so one night he silently crept out a window onto the dew covered grass and simply walked away.

John had lived on the streets ever since. Surviving on scraps of food, at least he thinks it's food, from garbage cans and occasionally resorted to stealing when necessary, like if the baker had no burnt bread or if the butcher had no spoiled meat, but a strange feeling inside of him told him today would be different. John had no idea how right he was.

-=={o}==-

John walked along Fifth Avenue as he finished up the last of his hot dog. He sat down on the curb and watched the cars zoom by. It reminded him of a game that he used to play with his mom, before she disappeared, he refused to accept the fact that she might have left him. They would sit on the curb in front of their apartment for exactly an hour, they used a timer, and each would chose a different color of car. John would always chose green and his mother, red. Then they would count the number of cars that would pass by and whoever counted more cars wins! John knew that it sounded boring but it was fun at the time. He decided to play it by himself, just for old times sake. Suddenly John heard a deep growl coming from behind him. He stood up and turned around.

John had dealt with stray dogs before, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw. Before him stood a gigantic, black mastiff, foaming at the mouth. The dog was at least four feet tall at the shoulders and looked as if it had not eaten in a week. John knew from experience not to stare into a dog's eyes, so he looked at the ground and started to slowly walk away. He could tell it was still following him from the sound of its nails clicking against the sidewalk. John suddenly broke into a run. He knew it was stupid, dogs being able to outrun humans and all, but this dog gave him seriously bad vibes. John ran as if he had never run in his life. He heard the sound of clicking nails getting farther and farther away. Had he actually outrun the beast?

John slowed his pace and turned around. Nothing but a few pedestrians and a fruit vendor. He turned back around and walked a few paces before hearing more growling. Why me? John thought as two more mastiffs stepped out of an alleyway in front of him. He turned around to run but another dog blocked his path. This time he got a good look at its eyes. They were pure red with no pupils and seemed to just radiate evil. John spun around again and lunged through the doors of the abandoned workshop to his right. He ran past crates and shelves, all completely covered in a thin layer of dust, and hid behind a box near the back of the room. He heard the front doors swing open and shut by the sound of the bell above them and then that sound of clicking nails that was really starting to get on his nerves.

After listening to a few moments of clicking, John peeked over the top of his box. He saw one of the dogs standing near the doors. Guarding the entrance he presumed. The second dog was sniffing the crates near the front of the workshop. But where was the third? His breath quickened. John then heard that annoying click click click sound of a dog behind him. Without even looking, John jumped up and dashed towards the stairs on his right, the dog following close behind. He rushed through the upstairs rooms, filled with cobweb-covered desks and chairs, and found himself on a terrace about thirty feet from the bustling sidewalk below. Well, John thought to himself, Might as well make my last stand here as anywhere. The dogs, all three of them were here now, skidded to a stop in front of the wide open terrace doors and slowly advanced, closing in around him and leaving no room for escape. "Nice doggies..." John whispered meekly. The dogs pounced.

John had hoped that the ancient railings surrounding the perimeter of the terrace would save him, but no such luck. He and the dogs crashed right through them and fell towards the sidewalk below.

-=={o}==-

Now John was really confused. He had been chased by giant demon dogs, then he fell off a terrace, and finally he had been saved by a horse that seemed to have wings. It could have been worse, he thought, I'm unhurt (except for a few bumps) and this horse-thing seems to be nice. The horse flew higher and John got his first good bird's-eye-view look of the city. "Wow," he said in amazement. "It's never looked this big before!" The horse, who John had decided to name Tom, snorted as he flew over the buildings and skyscrapers of Manhattan. John felt as if he could see everything from up there. And in a way he could, since he had never even stepped a foot out of Manhattan before. Tom swerved to face the Atlantic Ocean making a beeline for Long Island Sound. "So that's where we're heading, 'ey boy?" John asked the horse, not expecting an answer. And of course he didn't get one.

As they approached the island, Tom took a steep dive towards the water. "YA-HOO!" John yelled into the wind as it blew across his face, making his long shaggy hair go crazy. Suddenly Tom pulled up again and his hooves skimmed the tops of the waves. When John looked into the water he thought he saw women swimming alongside them in the waves. John hit the side of his head with the palm of his hand and the women were gone. Just seeing things, he thought to himself, I've had a long day.

Tom was flying closer to the island when suddenly... SPLASH! The horse had stopped, throwing John off its back and into the water below. "Tom, wait!" John yelled at the horse but Tom was already miles above, circling overhead. "What a lot of help you were," John muttered coldly as he paddled towards the shore.

John thought that he was done for. He had run out of strength and he was only halfway to Long Island. He had never really bothered to get into swimming and now he regretted it terribly. Just as John was about to sink down to the depths of the ocean from exhaustion, five beautiful women rose from the waters, each grabbing a limb and the last one, supporting his head above the water so he wouldn't drown. They started to paddle him to the shore where he could see the tiny outlines of people and smoke rise into the clouds from a fire somewhere on the island. John didn't remember much about the trip. Mostly because he had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.