© 2014 Gabrielle Boyd
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Howls of Chaos
Brown Books Publishing Group
16250 Knoll Trail Drive, Suite 205
Dallas, Texas 75248
www.BrownBooks.com (972) 381-0009
A New Era in Publishing™
ISBN 978-1-61254-181-5
Printed in the United States
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I would like to dedicate this book to my parents for always believing in me, supporting me, and helping me discover all of my hidden talents. I love you both.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank God first and foremost for inspiring me to become a writer.
I want to thank my parents, especially my dad because he is the reason why my book is published. I want to give a special thanks to my project manager, my designer, the editors, publisher, and everyone at Brown Books Publishing that assisted with my book. I want to thank Brown Books for giving me the opportunity to publish my first book, The Howls of Chaos. Thank all to of my friends, peers, professors, and the people who are going to buy my book—enjoy.
It’d been a while since I last visited the small Alabama town called Chaosville; perhaps a little less than two hundred years or so. The town had totally progressed since the eighteen hundreds. Chaosville now had factories, department stores, gas stations, and schools. It had fire stations, a police department, several grocery stores, a mall, and restaurants as well. The town also had a college that I had recently enrolled in, even though I am not even a year away from being two hundred years old.
There were so many new families and ethnic groups in the area. I remember the time when there were only a few ethnic groups—white, black, Native American, mulattos, Spaniards, and people of mixed origin.
Chaosville now had a greater variety of people of different ethnic groups and religions than they did in the early days. This sort of reminded me of being in California, which in my book was good because I’m mixed myself. My father was a Creek Indian, and my mother was a freed African slave. I was born in 1811.
At age fourteen, I was married to a Creek warrior named Strong River. We were happily married and had one son together named Little Hawk. We lived in one of the Creek villages near what is now the Chaosville area, but that was before I was attacked by a strange beast in the forest that caused me to become what I am today: an immortal.
This happened in 1830, when I was nineteen years old. Ever since I was attacked that night in the forest, I have remained nineteen.
Since then I have traveled throughout the world, witnessed the world progress and change for the better, and had other personal experiences as well. I have even fallen in love a time or two, but for some reason I keep running back to the same guy.
Even though I am not human, I tend to blend in with society and my main goal is to live life to the fullest. I am a student at Chaosville Community College where I am majoring in nursing. You would probably wonder why a werewolf—that’s right, I am a werewolf—would go to college and major in nursing. Well dang, what else is there to do when all you have is time and you never age?
Oh, and excuse me for being rude, I totally forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alexsys, Ms. Alexsys Four Rivers, and I know I don’t spell my name like most Alexises do. I guess I try to be unique. I picked this name up right after I was turned. I spell Alexis without an i; in exchange, I add an s and a y before the s. So it is Alexsys.
I stand about five feet four inches tall with an average, athletic build. I have sort of reddish, dark-brown skin, high cheekbones, flat lips, dark-brown almond-shaped eyes, and long curly black hair that hangs down to the center of my back. Let’s just say, I am the ideal description of what a black Indian looks like.
Anyway, like I said earlier, I am 199 years old. You’re probably wondering how I was turned into a werewolf. Well, here it goes.
Back when I was mortal and living with the tribe, a handsome Spaniard named Carlos Fernandez would come into the village and sometimes trade with us. He was well-known among the settlers and the natives. Carlos was outstandingly sexy. Even though I was married to a Creek warrior, I still could not help but to notice him. Most of the women in the village would stare at him because he was so incredibly fine.
Carlos was in his late twenties, perhaps around twenty-eight. He was tall, over six feet, and had an athletic, muscular build as if he were a gladiator. His hair was jet-black and came down a little past his ears, with bangs that were combed to the side. His skin was smooth with olive tones and his eyes were brown, with a touch of honey. His lips were full and sexy, and when he smiled everyone around him would just gaze at his radiant white teeth. He was always well dressed and clean-cut. I figured he probably knew that he was a total hunk.
Even though Carlos was a very attractive guy, he had a charm about him too. I guess you could say that’s common among werewolves; we have a personal glow that sometimes causes us to spark attention from people at times.
I could walk out the door with some old blue jeans with holes in them and a T-shirt that’s twice my size with stains and someone would still notice me. Ha, ha, not tryin’ to brag! It’s just a werewolf thing.
Well anyway, back to Carlos. Every time he would come into the village, whether to trade or just hang out with some of the guys, he would always stare at me or look at me with this saturating smile that said, “We should meet later so we can get acquainted.”
Sometimes he would come up and try to spark a conversation with me. I never paid him any mind, but I wasn’t that fluent in English at the time. I could understand English really well, and I knew quite a few words and how to keep a simple basic conversation with someone. I just could not speak it that well.
Let’s just say, everything changed after I met this guy. It wasn’t until one night when the moon was full and everyone was asleep that a loud howling noise swept across the village and awakened several members of the tribe, including Strong River and myself. We stepped out of our house and noticed several other members of the tribe running away from the camp.
People were screaming and crying. Weapons were being fired. At first I thought someone was raiding our village, but that’s when I noticed these two large wolves. Well, they weren’t wolves exactly; they were walking like men on two feet before they got down on all fours like wolves.
I stood there in shock because I had never seen anything like that before. The two wolf-like creatures were just walking in the camp and destroying anything and anyone in their way. I was trembling all over. That’s when Strong River went back into the house and woke up Little Hawk. He quickly came back outside with a gun and his bow and arrow in one arm and Little Hawk in the other. He quickly handed me his bow and arrow and yelled, “Come on!”
The three of us began to run quickly toward the forest. When we got a few yards into the forest, Strong River put Little Hawk in my arms and forced us to run and hide. He told us to go and get help in one of the other Creek villages in the morning.
Before