Yang

I guess you need a bit more info than that, huh? I'll tell you about the day I died. Seems like a good enough place to start.

It was was the morning of October 31st, my faorite holiday, much to my omma's disapointment. I guess Halloween isn't that big in Korea, but it was pretty big to my dad. He'd dress up as a different crazy redhead every year. Last year he was Mad Hatter. This year he's a corpse, just not in a fun way. I'm going off topic, so let me get back to it. 

I woke up in our two-bedroom apartment to the sound of my upstairs neighbor either chucking weights or doing jumping jacks with kettle-bells. Either way I wasn't going back to sleep, despite it being five AM and having come home and midnight last night.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and washed my face in the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and sigh. Everyone says I take after my dad, but I don't see it. I have my omma's straight black hair, dark brown eyes and carmel skin. I can see freckles on my nose if I look hard enough. I did inherit his height, though. I'm 5'11" while my omma is 5'5". Despite me practically being a tower compared to omma, she still manages to ignore me these days.

"Morning Omma," I say, as I walk into the kitchen. My mother doesn't look up. She's sitting in the living room, sewing up tears in my clothes. I'm not about to tell her that those jeans were meant to be ripped. "I have to work again tonight. They need all hands on deck for Halloween."

Omma whips around. If looks could kill... "Why must you continue at that insufferable job? You are so smart! you could be a doctor, or a lawyer, or-"

"Or an engineer."

Now I've done it. "You listen well Yang Murray! You do not interrupt your omma while she is speaking! Do you have a death wish? With your job, you must-"

I'm angry now, and I know I'm saying the wrong thing, but I'm just so sick of this arguement. "Have a death wish? Huh? You know, dad would be proud of me, why can't you be?"

"Because he's dead and I'm not! I already outlived my husband, must I outlive my daughter too?"

She looks sad, but I'm too angry to care. I grab my keys off the table and slam the door on my way out. My dad died three months ago in a robbery gone wrong. I graduated the police academy a week later. I just want to be like my dad, a hero who helped people. Why can't she understand that? 

My feet take me staright to the precinct as if by instinct. My dad worked here for twenty years, so I guess that's not surprising. I'm three hours early, so I march through to the back to get started on last night's paperwork. I grab a stale cruller from the break room and start filing through the reports. I blast U2 through my earphones so when Sarge walks in he scares the crap out of me.

"You know it's only seven, right?" he growls as he plucks out my earphones. He's 6'6", somehow still stocky, and has a scar arcoss his face. He looks terrifying, until you find out the scar is from when he tried to save a mountian lion cub that he mistook for a house cat.

"It's 8am somewhere," I mutter, my mouth full of cruller.

He sits, groaning with age. I'm not 100% sure, but I think he's 70 or something. "You should go easy on your mom, kid. She lost your dad too."

I shove my earphone back in and blast the volume. I know, ok? I know I'm being a complete jerk to people who just care about me, but I can't help it. Sarge leaves, having said what he came to say. I finish the paperwork and head over to the gym. I guess I'll get a good workout in, if nothing else. 

I'm 30 minutes in to ending the punching bag's pitiful life when the emergency alarm starts going off. I quickly grab my gun from my locker and scramble to the bullpen. Two masked men have guns pointed at Sarge. The desk clerk is hiding behind the divide and I see a couple officers in uniform waiting on the other side of the bullpen. Sarge has his arms raised and is addressing the guy in yellow. "I can see that you want your freind-"

"He's not my friend!"

"My apologies, I hear that you want Luca White released..." he's still talking, but I'm not listening. Luca White killed my father and was just sentenced to life in prison. These assholes are not about to get away with it.

I jump out from from my hiding spot. "What do you want with Luca White?" I demand, pointing my gun. I have now done everything as off handbook as humanly possible. I'm armed with my service weapon, out of unifoorm, I haven't identified myself as an officer and I have heated up a situation that Sarge most likely would have handled without bloodshed. But it's a little late now.

"Oooh, what do we have here?" calls Yellow Man, "If it ain't the bastard's little bitch." I don't have to see his face to know he's smiling.

"What do you want with Luca White?" I repeat, trying to calm myself down. The only thought going through my head is that I'm a complete idiot and I'm probably going to die. I raise my gun higher to signify my intent. I've locked eyes with the dirtbag. HIs eyes are blue, but unlike Dad's, his are so cold it sends a shiver down my spine.

"I want to free him, of course," The guy twirls his gun around, not a care in the world. His friend or whatever raises his run so it's level with my face. "Can't have a hero like him behind bars, it's just too cruel."

Hero? HERO?! I take a step forward. I hear Sarge yell 'No!' right as a lound BANG sends me flying back. My last thought is that I should apologize to my mother.

THUNK. "Ugh, ow." Everything hurts, somehow. My brain feels murkey, like when I tried vodka at senior prom. Well, more like the day after prom. I go to stretch my arms, CLANK. I open my eyes, startled. My hands are chained together with those old-timey giant handcuffs. My feet, too. But most alarmlingy to me is that I'm somehow completely naked in a wooden cage that keeps jolting me around. THUNK, CLANG, THUNK, BAM! "F**k!" I yell, as my head rams into the ceiling. 

"Shuddup!" a man yells, before be bangs on the top of the cage. 

I look out the bars of the cage, trying to figure out where I am. I see a dirt road with heavy vegitation on either side. The cage has an old latch on the outside. It wouldn't be that hard to undo if my hands weren't bound together. 

I wiggle around, trying to find some way to undo the cuffs. Seems like it requeires an old-timey key, too. Still, they're a little big for me so I try to squirm out of them. It's so hot that my sweat helps them slip off. It's not as easy with my feet. As I try to pull them off we hit a huge pothole that throws me upside-down. I land with my butt in the air, 'cause that's super dignifying. 

I re-orient myself and start again at my ankle cuffs. I've sweat even more with effort and fear, and I manage to make one foot free. That's all I need, really. I look towards the driver and for the first time I realize I'm in a horse drawn carriage. I've got a million thoughts about how five minutes ago I was being shot in the head at the precinct and how I am now, somehow, naked in a cage on the back of a horse-drawn carrige in the middle of the countryside, but escape is most important. 

I slide my hand between the slats and and start to wiggle the latch. Just as I'm about to get it we hit another large bump and I'm sent flying back, banging my wrist in the process. "That f**king hurt!" I yell, holding my now bruised and bleeding wrist. 

"Shuddup! I'm not gunna tell you again!"

I wince, cause this guy sounds terrifying. I go back to fiddling the latch, and it finally slides open. I fling myslef out the door, doing a barrel roll as I hit the ground. I'm up and running faster that I've ever run in my life. I head staright down the road, the tips of my toes barely skimming the ground.

Suddenly a jolt goes through my body like I was struck my lightning at the base of my spine. My limbs spasm and I fall gracefully onto my face. I try to move, but I'm barely getting my fingers to wiggle. I have a strong urge to vomit, but nothing comes.

I hear a deep, cracking laugh behind me. His footsteps are louder than my upstairs neighbor's work-outs. I manage to get on my hands and knees and start to crawl. His cackling gets louder.

"Look ka ya, elf girl!" he bellows. I've heard a lot of deragatory terms growing up, but that one's new. I keep crawling. He's beside me now, just watching me, laughing. I wanna punch him. More pain shoots through my body and I fall again. He laughs harder, "Aye, if more elves fought like ya, there might be some of 'em lef'," he cackles maniacally now. I've slumped onto my stomach. My eyes search him for a weapon. He has leather boots and big baggy pants like an old-fashioned pirate. Is he into historical cosplay?  On his belt hang two swords, one still covered in blood. He didn't use those on me. I look higher and I see the hairiest chest I've ever seen. It's black with a gray patch in the center. I look at his face...

His FACE.

He's a wolf. I mean, he looks like the man-wolf from the little-red riding hood picture book stories. His left ear flicks in amusement. He smiles, at least I think so, before he squats down, cupping my chin in his hand. His breath smell's like dog vomit. I gag. He grins.

"That's it, little elf," he licks my face slowly from chin to forehead, never breaking eye contact. "We're gunna have lot's o' fun." He laughs and flings me over his shoulder. This man, or wolf or whatever his is, is huge. I'm nothing to him. He starts walking back to the carrige. That wasn't some Halloween mask. The way it all moved was far too real. I struggle a bit and he laughs again. I don't know what he wants. Is he gunna eat me or... Oh.

I hope he eats me.

Just as I'd lost all hope in this crazy exstance, the world exploded.

Okay, exploded is a stretch but the road split down the middle and a giant tower made out of dirt, trees and bones began to grow, so I'm kinda freaking out, okay? Creppy Wolf-Man tosses me into the trees as he tries to make a run for it, but he is subsequently squshed by a giant falling rock. The crack in the road grows as this tower, that looks like the Roman Colleseum, if the Colleseum was 500 stories high and ten times as wide as a football field, continues to suck up the trees and ground around it, growing into the creepiest looking thing ever. I keep running, dodging the falling debree this insane thing has deemed unworthy. My lungs feel like thier exploding and the taste of blood coats my mouth. Still, I pump my arms and legs like I'm an olympic track star about to win the gold until my vision goes blurry, and then black sports, and then...

Did I just die twice in one day?

To be continued...