Myth High | Book I | ✔️ | FIRST DRAFT

Prologue III

Prologue III

"I've had so many knives stuck into my back, when they hand me a flower I can't quite make it out. It takes time."

-Charles Bukowski

I took in the bright sun as it set. I squinted my eyes. As much as I loved the heat, being blinded by it was not on my to-do list.

Oh, I should probably introduce myself, huh?

My name is Timothy, no last name because I have no idea who my parents are and I'm not technically adopted. Anyways, I'm seventeen and I should technically be a junior in High School, but I've never been to one. I have curly, dark brown hair, palish skin- or lightly tanned, whichever you prefer- and green eyes. I was wearing my decimated- as I like to call it. It technically only has a few holes in it- gray hoodie with my torn up jeans that couldn't pass as something a homeless man would wear. My Chuck Taylors? Yeah, they've seen better.

Sighing, I turned to my partner. Golden blonde hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes. Perfect example of what the hot, do-gooder in romance books. Well, if we were in a romance book. His red shirt was shredded, revealing his abs and his left nipple. Not gonna lie, compared to him I am a twig. He's buff- at least, for a guy who only reads- and I'm, well, me. His jeans were even worse for wear. His right leg was practically torn off, so it ended right were teenage girls' shorts tend to end nowadays (aka his butt). His left leg was still intact- if you consider intact as missing three chunks with claw marks throughout it- so that was good. I could still see the leather strap that hangs around his neck, so that was a relief. His Nikes, however, were falling apart, again. He goes through them faster than I go through Boston Crème doughnuts.

"Timothy, what the hell are you staring at me for?" He asked, staring at me intently.

"Just assessing the situation, Garroth." I muttered. Honestly, I was hardly paying attention. I usually pay more attention to you guys then the others around me.

Wait, I should explain before you flip out about breaking the fourth wall, which tends to happen whenever someone mentions being in a book. Seriously?

Anyways, Garroth and I have these abilities that come with being what we are. For example, I specialize in communicating with an unknown origin. That's the 'official term', but this is what I actually do: I specialize with communicating with people via book, movie, and screen, whatever the hell this is on. It's like having a small thread attached to my mind, which in turn is attached to your guys' place. I've tried figuring it out, but nothing ever seems to work, so I have no idea.

So yes, that's what I do. Garroth specializes with minds. He isn't as strong as say, Professor X, but he is working on it. He can control people for a certain amount of time, and he is very telekinetic. It's his best strategy, actually. Not only that but he's pretty smart. In the school we went to, he was top student forever. Of course, he graduated while I flunked. He's eighteen, but graduated four years early. I was thirteen when he graduated, so I flunked out of school to be with him. He's like my adopted older brother.

"Tim, you're spacing again. You're not talking to 'the readers of your life' again, right?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing, Garroth. Want to do something about it?"

Garroth rolled his eyes and continued walking. We were currently on the side of the road, and five cars had passed us so far. So, now you know how busy this strip of asphalt is. Of course, that's to be expected.

Now, you may be wondering why all our clothes were, well, destroyed. See, we used to have a car. However, on our way here, werewolves hijacked us. We were lucky to get away with our lives intact, and thankfully, minor scratching, but we lost the car and our spare weapons. Our main weapons aren't needed unless we meet the really serious people, which hasn't happened in a while, thankfully.

On top of our appearance, we were starving and on the verge of dehydration. Actually, I was already there- Garroth was feeding off the water still in his muscles. I exhaled sharply. Perhaps there would be a chance we would find something, but that was still unlikely. This strip of asphalt surrounded by dirt hadn't led to anything yet, and I wasn't exactly rooting for it.

Suddenly, a bright light turned on, illuminating a building. It was a gas station, and the store looked to have just turned its lights on due to the setting sun. I picked up my pace, my brain filling with fluff, causing me to forget many of the things I should've known. My heart beat rapidly in the excitement of having something to actually consume. I was so excited, in fact, that I couldn't hear Garroth screaming at me to stop.

I threw open the door to see it unoccupied. Again, my brain was not working. I walked inside, panting at the sight of the many beverages and consumables that were available. Also, oddly enough, clothing. It was advertising the gas station, but who cared, right?

Before I could forget anything else, it appeared.

Now, if you are not as educated in Monsters, let me explain Ghosts to you. Well, how to kill them, I mean.

Some of you may watch Supernatural, but know you don't have to burn their bones. You can as extra insurance, but it usually isn't necessary. Now, salt and iron? Works like a charm. Most Hunters these days have salt of iron mixed into their weapons, so the weapon can be multi-purpose.

As soon as the ghost appeared, I pulled my sword out.

I was about six feet tall, so I was giant. My sword was eight feet long. The hilt was made of the strongest wood I knew. And no, not that kind of wood. Perverts. Anyways, the wood was called Quebracho, or Ax Breaker. The Hilt was only about a foot or so long, as to not limit the size of the blade. The blade was a mixture of steel, iron, silver and diamond. Not only that, but salt had been baked onto it, so it still looked smooth, yet salt still laid on it. In short, it could kill a lot of things.

Now, you may be wondering, "Timothy, you sexy, sexy beast, how did you pull your amazing sword out of nowhere? How do you conceal this awesome hulk of a weapon?" To answer your questions, mi amigos, it is kept invisible. To everyone it is invisible, yet I can find it whenever I need it. Not only that, but its feather weight to me, but the weight of an elephant to anyone else.

Of course, the reluctant look immediately shown in the ghosts eyes. It hissed, prepared to fight me one-on-one. I smirked at it. That isn't how I roll, ghosty.

Garroth came in, yanking the leather chain that hung around his neck off. On it was a simple, golden key. Of course, that's what everyone thought at first. As soon as it snapped, the kept immediately began to grow. Soon, it was the size of a knife. The part that you stick in the lock, otherwise known as the part you put in the lock cylinder, (How I know that? Garroth, aka the human version of the internet) began to grow outwards, sharpening itself as it did that. The jagged parts of the key grew out a bit more, and then sharpened themselves as well. The place where you typically hold a key became hilt shaped, and the leather strap wrapped itself around it, creating his dagger.

The ghost hesitated before I slashed it in half with my sword. The familiar hissing sound came off of it as it died, again.

I exhaled, putting my sword back in place. Garroth's knife grew back into a key, and he retied the strap back around his neck. He glared at me before ordering me to find some food.

After grabbing some water bottles and chip bags, I brought it back to him to find him shoving granola bars into his pockets. I rolled my eyes. "Hippy."

Garroth chuckled lightly before grabbing a water bottle from me. I opened mine and immediately gulped it down.

After we rested for a bit, we walked off, heading back towards our destination.

Points Brooke.