Twilight - characters belong to Stefenie Meyer
An Hour until the Fire
Nevertheless, actually, one should think, a father transmits to his son the values which he has learnt of his father. What entails that one himself can become an estimable man. I can say to you that the case if is not you're a son of an Anglican pastor and London in the middle of the uprisings against witches, werewolves and vampires finds. Thus nothing else was left to me than to follow my father and to take over sometime his job in this fight what brings me exactly in this situation in I now considers.
During the hours before the night in should break, a small army of fighters assembled against the supernatural. Quick-tempered discussions broke out about the action at this night. The calls after death and repayment became always pure among the men; men to me would follow to kill. Men they did not know, how much I hated this power against different creatures and would only state them because I was the son of my father. The benches of the church of my father were filled with armed people who themselves would go to the death around her families before the evil as they called to protect. The blasphemy remained not concealed to me as I looked around and from the easy farmer up to the businessman in full of hatred looks looked in this holy place, a church, with bread and dry meat strengthened. However, I had no other choice if I did not want to fall even more in the envy of mine.
The more dark it became outdoors, the tenser became the men and at the same time their aggressiveness and in my eyes also the more ridiculously in her arrogance.
Smaller groups were formed which should fight through according to my instruction, through the lanes in the direction of northern district of London in search of the enemy. Two pastors and a businessman followed me in the darkness.
The bad stench of desolate lanes, London in 17 centuries, penetrated to me into the nose.
Fear, originated from the naivety in we tried to defeat the supernatural, spread in me. I did not know a lot about that like I could recognise the so-called enemy. Traditions reported about unnatural speed for vampires and werewolves and at last witches were to be recognised only, if to book them tried you with a curse or magic. My father reminded me over and over again of the fact that I recognised the evil by his eyes. He said the eyes; they are not the only one what can hide. In her eyes you will see like you can defeat them. She to them directly in and does not hesitate. Never hesitate my son, his words had been. If they have been thundering and lightning you once, you cannot escape from them any more, never hesitates in your intention to kill and you will survive.
I wanted to see to none of these beings in the eyes, because this would be meant I am quite too close. I understood the fear of the people of dangers Deadly to her families would become. I knew to fight the urge to keep of the men and the upper hand. However, was it really possible to come against such strength?
Was it possible by own fear to develop so much mercy that one could live with each other? Live in different worlds and yet still on the same earth?
The thought of a peaceful life of the most different creatures too often whirred in my head, however, the only attempt I made this to my father to say, it was punished with even more envy by his side. Thus I omitted to appeal to him one day again to it. However, I was not to me certainly the power and Deadly everything can be.
Deeply in this thought submerged, went with all care through an orphan lane. The darkness was only discontinuously from the light of my torch. The cobblestones returned only the sound of my boots. No noise of the wind. No noise of the people. Only hurried ones stream and stream out of my breath sounded in my ears. To me became conscious that I alone state in the darkness and strange manner could not say I whether myself uneasy or even calmed. With my back against a wall I stopped and to calm my breath and to admit to myself that I would be better to go home. I wanted and will not kill, not at this night and in no one else in my life. This thought gave me strength, because so much I disapproved of the actions of my father, so much I was persuaded of the fact that mercy should be the quality of a person which dominates him.
I pushed off from the wall and went the lane back in the direction of the house of my father. Now between the houses the wind hissed and let me tremble. My steps accelerated and the uneasiness in me grew. Once more banged me the wind like a small storm, only to give up on me directly again. I started to run. Faster and faster I ran about the stones of the Stra0e. The faster I became the more frequent the gusts of wind met me. Gusts of wind felt like lashes. I could see only the light at the end of the street. My torch had become useless, because it did not burn any more. I would have made it soon to the end of the lane, and then I was at home. I took my whole strength and started to run faster. The uneasiness in me was hardly to be stood. Icy wind hissed along me, met me directly in the back and read me stumbling forwards fall. My hands hit on the hard stone. Loud growling penetrated into my ears. I tried to pull myself together, when something, no somebody, with his boot in my belly hit and I landed on the back. From fear done I tried to crawl from this creature. My back came to contact with stone. I could not return further and thus I lifted my head and saw what directly before myself stood. To and fro pulled from pure fear and fascination, I saw him. Saw that what my father hated so.
I see the creature at which everybody looked as an enemy. I could not move, could not shout, and could not beg for my life. I just stared at him. And then I saw myself what my father to explain all years tried. I saw to him directly in the eyes. Eyes coloured from deep red of the purest rubies. Eyes, that looked at me. Hungry! A dangerous red! They took comfort, in my motionlessness. Murderous got closer red to my face always. His wings of nose shook as he soaked my smell up. Growling became always pure and pure. I was to me consciously it will be the last what I will see in my life.
Razor-sharp teeth penetrated the meat in my neck. Finally, uncontrollable pain allowed me to scream. His hand pushed shut more firmly my neck. I could hardly perceive the sucking noise; it was drowned by my panic attempt to breathing. I could feel my body hardly, my head fully with panic, fear and pain. And then it was quiet; just quietly. The last thought in my head was. Lead a war only if you are willing to burn. It was done. I was done.