Hey! Aloha! Bonjour! Suck my Meerkat!
This fanfic has been floating around my head for a while now. It started as a oneshot… but it was slowly mutated and experimented on 'till it became a sort of a semi-story- not quite the length of a full book, but still has a few chapters. As Wilf is obviously the best Chaos Walking character, (Although Manchee is a close second- Watch out for my 'Ressurecshun' ff coming soon. As the name suggests, someone is ressurected…) I really wanted a fanfic to focus on him instead of Todd or Viola. Also, I wanted to see what he would be like if he got angry…
Note: although the books themselves were written in the present tense, this is told from the third person, so it doesn't suit. Instead I've used past tense because, well, future tense would be a bit odd. And as for conditional tense… that would just be jibberish.
Hope you enjoy it. I've got an alternative ending thingy planned and I'll write it if there's demand.
R&R! Please and thank you!
CHAPTER 1: MAELSTROMS AND MURDERS
Wilf stared in horror. His Noise, usually calm and controlled, was a maelstrom of greys and blacks. Sadness. Despair. But there was a speck of red in the broth. Anger. Hate. A thirst for vengeance. And this red drop in the raging ocean of greys was growing. His sadness was being replaced with anger.
Wilf stared in horror. His lifelong companion lay dead on the ground, a bloody sword in her side. The sword had a silver A engraved on the hilt. The Ask. The invaders. The despotic tyrants. Wilf wept and sobbed, wailed and moaned, for at least an hour, until his sadness had gone. He had let it escape. But, although the sadness and depression had gone, the anger was still bottled up inside him. He knew who had done the crime. He had already despised them, but now he was filled with fury, in a blind rage.
He moped over to his cart. He took his old, trusty axe out. For his whole life, whenever he was angry, he would chop wood. Let all of his anger out on the wood. It was one of the reasons his noise was so controlled- he had always let his emotions out. The axe felt heavy and clumsy in Wilf's strong hands. He swung it at a small fir at the edge of the path. It felt good.
Wilf continued enthusiasticaly whacking trees with his axe, but his anger didn't dissipate. In fact, it became almost all he could think about. Wilf pondered over his love's killers as his axe carved a deep slice out of a huge oak. The tree almost fell over. Wilf knew that his wrath wouldn't go. Unless…. Wilf slowly heaved the bulky axe onto his shoulder, and started walking. Towards the city- New Prentisstown. Towards the Ask. And he wasn't in a good mood.
