James is tired, dirty, and rather annoyed. Anyone would be, if they were laying in a puddle of mud. For James, however, this did not account for why he was tired and annoyed… Just dirty. Let us review why James feels this way.
James was a young man of 23, living on the planet of Earth in the year of 2015. He lived a fairly simple life of working to survive like anyone else, enjoying his hobbies during his free time. Of course, had he a girlfriend he would rather devote all his time to her, although such actions would probably drive a woman away, but that was just how James was.
During this simple life James was walking home from work, which happened to be only 4 blocks away from his home (how convenient). Standing at the corner of a cross-section of streets a single block away from his home, James patiently waited for the cross signal and the lights to change (better safe than risking it, right?).
Sure enough the lights changed to let him begin his last trek, and as he was crossing, his life changed dramatically, like suddenly being hit by a truck (only in James’ case, literally!). A truck had run through the red lights and struck James, in the middle of the cross-walk, at 40 mph. As James watched his blood thoroughly coat the grill of the truck in the last milliseconds of adrenaline fueled brain functionality, he thought just a few last phrases… [WHAT THE FUCK! Are you serious? So fucking cliché!]
[Darkness? Oh. Right. The fuck-tard truck driver hit me. So this place is the end? Maybe I am in some kind of coma? Nah, not after that, no way.]
James was, understandably furious. He was only a block from home, ready to kick of his shoes, play some video games, read some light novels, and work on his plastic board game models. Now he is dead, in this endless darkness… Wait, how can he be aware of himself and his surroundings if the mind of his body was dead? Did that mean souls existed?
As James pondered about his existence he slowly began to feel warmth around him. Odd, considering he only sensed himself until now. Was the warmth always around him, or was this a new existence in the darkness in addition to himself?
As James busied his mind about this new sensation, his senses became aware of yet something else new to the darkness. A steady sound, constant, like the beat of a drum with a muffled bass, sometimes fluctuating in tempo. James knew this was a heartbeat, however it sounded loudly below his feet. It was not his own, yet he could feel it surrounding him.
[Warmth, darkness, and a heartbeat that is not mine… NO it can’t be. Pleaaasssssee don’t let it be that… It’s just too cliché!]
If there was one thing James hated, it was the cliché. James preferred to be unique in everything he did, if it could be helped. What James had just pieced together with the little information he had, was that he was going to be reincarnated. It was popular among the light novels and fan fictions he read. Thanks to that popularity, the concept began to feel cliché!
[Well I can’t really do anything about that now… Hope I get born into a unique world that isn’t too dull]
Some undeterminable time later James, stewing in his thoughts, heard a roar from without the womb of his new mother.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
[An attack from some wild beast? Am I going to die again before I am even birthed? Well at least it wouldn’t be too cliché and maybe I will have another chance. Perhaps next reincarnation I will even lose my memories?]
As James thought, which recently he had too much time to do, the roars grew louder and sounded more pained than predatory or threatening. James Abruptly saw light, the warmth gone, he could feel only the cold harshness of the new world. James didn’t cry out. Even though it was cliché for a reincarnation not to cry, it was more so to cry. He didn’t care if the mother thought him stillborn, he wasn’t going to be so cliché.
James wasn’t being held by a doctor or a midwife, it felt as though he were laying on a cold, hard floor. He felt a nudge from something larger than him. James didn’t react, he wanted to see his surroundings first. [Who allows a newborn to lay on such a cold hard place? Hell would be more welcome than this cold surface] He put all his might into opening his eyes the tiniest bit.
James felt the cold beneath him permeate his very being at the sight before him. Teeth like a sabretooth tiger, long, curved, menacing. Pure ivory claws, sharp as daggers and as long. Eyes with a deep, bright blue glow as though the sun shone through the purest blue ice. Thick white fur, coated in a sharp frost that looked like it could shred the one who touches it, and two long, especially fluffy, flexible tails.
On all fours, it looked as though it was as tall as an average human, somewhere between five and six feet. It looked like an arctic breed of whatever species it was. James wasn’t sure of the breed, feline or vulpine? It had features that belonged to both.
James wanted to lash out, defend himself, but he had no strength. Did this creature kill his mother? Is this where the roars came from? As James willed his body to move, strength quickly drained from him and the creature drew nearer. The creature circled around James once, and abruptly lay down next to him, tails curling over him as though the softest and warmest of blankets.
[That fur is deceptively warm… Wait… Huh? I’m not food?]
As James thought such things he heard an angelic voice within his mind. “I will call you… Veloth.” It was full of warmth and lulled James to sleep.
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Author’s Note: Hello readers! I’m new to writing fictions so I would appreciate if:
• You constructively criticize me so that I may improve and give you, the readers, and enjoyable experience!
• If you notice any spelling errors or grammatical errors that makes my fiction difficult to read, let me know in the comments or through another method, that I may fix them!
Also, I don’t expect much from this so depending on the reactions to my fiction I may write more (or less) often. Currently I plan to get at least 2-3 chapters out a week.
Note to self: FP. Strike lots of commas. Grammar.
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