9:44 PM

Between these Shades of Grey

Humans always wonder how they're going to die, never wondering how they're going to live; we've always had that 'idea' that choice made for us, since the very day we were conceived. Well, I've certainly never thought about how I would live, but I knew how I wanted to...

And living in the place of someone unknown, a ghost, seemed like a good way to start. My name is Melina Morrison and I have started my life over from death. I am Anbā-bi, the amber sun.

I was born in Africa and taken to the U.S. in some tiny backwater town whose name I have long forgotten, and in all fairness, it probably doesn't even exist anymore, on some cold December day in 1781. I am now living in Japan in what is known as the Tokyo Undersides. It is just days before we hit 2012. I am twenty-four years old. If you want to know how that's humanly possible, it's not...

I wasn't born this way, you know, and I should say that I never asked for this, but that would be a lie. Better would be to say that I wanted this, but didn't think it humanly possible. And again… it's not… humanly possible, that is. But, being a human was something I detested; I longed to become one of the creatures that filled my fantasies, my writing, I wanted to be freed from a seemingly eternal life as a weak powerless, graceless sack of flesh and bones tethered to this world because said sack of flesh and bones is too weak to die. I wanted something more. That has been my dream since, well, ever.

I just didn't expect it to happen, really… I didn't. Such creatures were mere fabrications of a lonely little girls mind, right? I didn't expect it, but that doesn't mean that I refused. Oh, sure, I put up a fight, namely to keep up appearances, but that didn't last long. I had nothing to live for, nor no one. My dad was a drunk, my mother a useless wench who could only say yes even when he hit her. I had three siblings, all boys, all older than me. They didn't need me, much less want me. I had no friends. Well, except for one, but im still not sure if he was real. Was I hallucinating? Probably, but the intricate sun with its amber stone hanging from a chord at my throat speaks otherwise.

I still remember his face, even though it was so long ago;Taiyō, the great sun. He had such pale hair that seemed to glow no matter the time of day. And his eyes, oh, he had eyes of fire.

He lived on the streets, stealing food when he could, going hungry most nights. He was dirty, small, and cold, I suppose he was sickly- or at least that's how he appeared. But his eyes, they told a different story, they were alive, bright, calculating, and filled with a terrible sorrow. I guess I took pity on the boy, and I gave him my share of food when I had it, not caring that I would go hungry that night and the next as punishment. Sometimes I gave him coins. I don't know what he did with them, for his dirt streaked face always looked the same, but he did something. When I could get away for a few hours, I sought him out and we would play and forget our troubles for a while.

Then one day a sickness took over the village. Death was merciless, not caring if you were young or old, rich or poor. He came and took what was his. And we were all his. I walked out to our usual meeting spot that day, and he was there, waiting, the sickness had struck him too. He smiled wanly, telling me that his papa was waiting and that he had to leave, lest he make him angry. I knew his papa was already seven days dead.

I hugged him crying. "Lena, don't cry," he whispers. "I have a present for you…" he reaches into his pocket and opens his hand. There lying on his white palm was a golden sun set with a pretty amber jewel.

"Taiyō," I whisper. He does not answer. Instead he falls. The sickness has claimed him, my only friend. He lies on the ground, snow falling around us, melting as it hits his still warm flesh. In death, he looked worse than usual, colder, dirtier, and his eyes had a hollow look in them, his hair didn't shine as it had only moments before, but his lips, they are twisted in a peaceful smile. I clutch the sun in my hand as cold tears drip down my face, falling in rivulets to the ground. The sickness has claimed my only friend, and I wish it would claim me as well, but fate, it seems, has other plans in store for me.

I had finally found out what he had done with the coins I had given him. And what does he do? Not buy food or clothes, no, he melts them and fashions it into a sun, and the jewel I knew came from his mothers ring. Why he would do that I will never know, but I suppose it is for the best. My thumb runs over its face, and over the back, where I can feel the words he has engraved.

Anata no seishin wa, kohaku-shoku no taiyō no yō ni kagayaku eien kanō-sei ga arimasu

May your spirit forever shine like the amber sun.

So, you're wondering how I was changed, right? Since its obvious the sickness didn't claim me. Well, there was a creature of my new family took an interest to me. I don't know why, I mean, what could he see in umber skin, dark curly hair, and ebony eyes? But I guess he saw something he liked, because one night, showed up in my tiny one-room shack, was looking at my papa's gun, and he turned to me smiling as I gasped.

"Hello, Lena," he said, his voice like honey.

His name was Launette. Claudius Launette. He was a fair skinned black man of about thirty or so, but in all reality he was much, much older. He was a very lithe, attractive, well dressed, angular man. I'd be lying if I told you my heart didn't flutter, though whether from trepidation or from exhilaration I could not say.

That night, he offered me a choice, as he held my mother by her hair. It was a choice that I could not refuse, not that I wanted to. My life as a slave was not attractive, it didn't shine. It didn't call to me.

He offered to turn me, to take me from this life, he offered me a new life. I could become one of them: I could become his partner, his mate. I accepted. I wanted nothing more than to forget this life full of pain and suffering. So I became one of his. I became a tiger.

He had taken me back to Africa where I had gone under approval of the elders, and had joined his streak as a hunter. I was trained in hunting as a tiger and as a human. When the modern age rose about, I became proficient in the use of many weapons, and had fought with numerous armies. And now work as a professional hit man… err… woman.

Soon, before he could officially claim me as his, I took notice in another of our kind. This huge fight broke out between the man who had taken my life from me in the first place and the interesting one. Blood was bled, skin was shed, new form of the body took place. Most people would call us beasts or monsters, but a more common name would be the weretiger. Little known to most humans, I know.

My partner was getting angry and starting to change, his skin being peeled off of his growing and deforming body. The other man was keeping his temper under control and now trying to negotiate with him. But it seems that the one who took my life from me wasn't about to let this man's life slip, even though it had technically already been taken from him. But, wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

The best place to start, I suppose, would have to be at the beginning.

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