Rite of Passage

Guillame's Journal - session one

Guillame's POV

Back to the streets, in a way. Sure, things were never great or more than okay back home, but at least I had clubs, a good group of friends, and a bit of chemical escape from time to time. Living in an abandoned train depot wasn’t so different from the slums back in Chicago. Just full of even weirder people if you can belive it. There was this crazy old white lady that ran the place, ordering everyone around with that big old cigar hanging out of her mouth. Between her and the big idiot who followed her around, it was like running away to join the circus. We couldn’t get out of there, didn’t see anything except for graffiti for almost a week.

Then we were told we had some rite to go through, some kind of initiation. They took us out of the warehouse and into Central Park. I used to think it was just some parking lot full of grass but this place was massive, and dark, and overgrown. Felt like we were out in the woods again. On our way to the meeting place the old lady disappeared and sooner than we knew it, we were alone. Lost in the middle of this massive forest. Then the howling began. A gang of werewolves and hunters rolled up on us in the park, and we ran. I had never been more scared. Must’ve been at least twenty of them and they had evil in their eyes. As we ran there was some kind of weird blue hole in the air in front of us. I had no idea what it was, but there was nowhere to go so I ran straight into it.

It led to a tunnel, some glowing tunnel that dumped us out into a snow-covered forest. Not the same forest we’d left, not Central Park, but some real outdoors. An Indian guy showed up to help us. Looked like a real feathers and tomahawk kinda guy, like out of some old movie. He welcomed us to his sept, gave us some blankets and led us to a cave where we could sleep.

When we woke up the next day there was a problem. It started when we woke up and heard some horrible howling. It was giving me the shivers. When we wandered out to see what it was, all the werewolves in this group were gathered around a huge campfire. There was some kind of meeting and everyone was upset, really upset, like in mourning. The bosses of this sept told us that old lady and her friends back in New York had killed their kids. That there was some kind of exchange for us to come here, and now the people they had sent were dead. They were pissed and looking for blood. They did us the “favor” of throwing us out into the cold to die, and one ugly bastard spit on me on our way out.

We wandered in the cold wilderness for the night before making camp by an old tree. When we woke up in the morning there was a bear rooting around nearby. We crept up on it hoping to get a meal. When we attacked, there was something weird about it. It was tougher than even a bear should be, and everyone else said it had some kind of evil spirit in it. We killed it without too much trouble. When it was dead, some visible ghost left it. If it’s this hard to get a meal out here, I don’t know how we’re gonna make it.



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