Years To Luna [#1 Gifted Luna Series]

Prologue

"I will march down an empty street like a ship into the storm,
No surrender no retreat,

I will tear down every wall,
Just to keep you warm,
Just to bring you home." ~ Banners - Start a riot

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Another day, another night.

The sun rises, the sun sets.

People wake up to show up and go to bed to forget.

The flowers bloom in the morning and shamefully shut at night.

This is how the world has been turning since the beginning of times, and this mantra is yet to cease.

Everything is beautiful in the beginning; life seems eternal with every second which passes, and every second seems eternal. The birds are chirping their heavenly song, the flowers boast their joyous colours, the soft morning grass smell invades the air and people have just gotten active.

Everything is ALIVE.

But when you have lived through this routine for millenniums one would think that getting sick of this semi-paradise is an outrageous idea, well-nigh absurd.

Well, it does, and it stays as such. Every second which goes by is not eternal anymore, it is just another present which passes.

The chirping is mutilated to a monotonously predictable nagging as well as the dull memorised shades of the flowers become your worst enemy.

The soft morning grass smell is muted and as usual; people have just gotten active.

Active at destroying this floating land in space which they ironically call their home; active at dictating younglings and pushing them in their disastrous steps; active at doing nothing but surviving. And surviving they have mastered.

We all have great expectations and ambitions, but we can only execute them by actions. I've executed them, I've succeeded but I'm still unhappy.

I'm waiting for something special and exotic, something that I still think is not to be given to me. And I'm waiting, I've waited but I am tired of waiting and my faith is growing dim. This is getting boring; after everything I've tried and done, nothing surprises me anymore.

Except for that girl...

That girl who sits in the café at the corner of the road facing the cashier on table 23. She drinks her mocha latte accompanied by a croissant, while she types animatedly on her laptop.

Her spectacles always threaten to fall off the bridge of her nose but after minutes of scrunching up the latter in annoyance, she finally pushes them back up. The whole process repeats itself for three hours, as she types, eats, drinks and fixes her falling spectacles. Nothing special.

Nothing special, but that fascinates me...

I cannot fathom the reason for my strange curiosity in her routine, but I know that she amazes me. She is just like me, bored with life, bored of her planned out future, bored of the assignments she types, bored of succeeding; bored of everything.

And she has only lived nineteen years at best on earth, nothing compared to me. Which is why she fascinates me; I nurture my bizarre interest by sitting on a table in a corner of the café, adjacent to hers, and stare at her discretely.

She radiates knowledge as she radiates a deep bored sadness. For some reason this pinches my heart, making my curiosity grow more than it should.

One day I couldn't take it anymore, I needed to touch her. As she got up to leave I passed by her and brushed our shoulders together. We jumped apart, as she frantically excuses herself and hurries away, out of the café, as I stand in a daze.

Luna.

She is my Luna.

She is my mate.

She is my everything.

She is mine.

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What did you guys think?

It's my first attempt at werewolf genre so please give me your advices and constructive criticism.

What do you think will happen in this story?

Theories?

~Nextdoorgirl101