Post by lawinda92 on May 3, 2008 11:33:49 GMT -5
This is my first original fanfiction, Night Iris. As this wears on, I warn the innocent and/or sensitive, THIS MAY NOT BE FOR YOU. There will be extreme and graphically-detailed violence and some objectionable language, though not too much of the latter, since it is not especially important to the story. The first couple chapters are fairly clean, but as we get closer to the middle section, it gets dark and especially graphic. Again, this is my warning. Anyone that can't handle so much violence should not read.
Now I present to you, the first chapter of Night Iris:
The town I grew up in was, suprisingly, once called 'the sticks'. There was nothing but a strip mall with a big grocery store called Mayer Frederick, a cheap coffee stand, a couple restaurants and make-up salons. The only places that were not attached to that long strip of stores was probably a few fast-food joints, none of those I can precisely remember. Not far away from the venues, families with preteenagers at eldest raised themselves and their kids. Evergreen trees were sprawled randomly around Covington, so much that we had our own Christmas tree. Covington was a lone, independent place where nobody but family could bother me. You were never rushed to get anywhere thanks to the lack of traffic, nobody cared if you were at your own business and all those good things. It seemed so quickly that everything turned for the opposite; also known as the worst to some.
The most vivid part of my fast-paced life started on a very hot September morning. I woke up to distant murmuring and something solid poking into my shoulder. It was amazingly irritating. A film of raged blindness covered my closed eyes. Red dots danced in the dark. Go AWAY, my mind growled threateningly.
"Wake up, we've got to go...", soft whispers of distant nothings turned into quiet English. "Really, come on, get up.", a very familiar voice said. It was the same one as before, I realized. My father.
"Why?", I fluttered my eyes open and spoke through my gritted jaws.
"First day of school, kid. It's lame to be late for that, you know."
I don't think I did much more than grunt in dismissal. Back then, I didn't have any energy in the morning to do anything more than speak a couple words. I would stay up late at night in fear of things that could happen, that did take place. The emotion fed off my energy greedily constantly, and my first awakening of the day was never willing.
Back in the present, suddenly, my body was flung amazing heights up into the air and over a strong shoulder. The shock wore off immediately and the rest of me fell limp. My eyes wandered into the hall, meeting an older boys' olive green eyes and dissheveled blond hair. I recognized the appearance of my guardian angel, official hero and full-blood brother, Mades. I felt the irritation turn into sparkling admiration in my chest. My blank grimace turned into a bright beam as we stopped by his room.
"I would really hate to break my back going down the stairs with the both of you on me, son. Come down here and get ready on your own or risk getting a cracked skull".
Mades nodded in understanding, his thick locks getting into his eyes. How can he be so alert at this hour?..., my mind pondered proudly and darkly at the same time.
The three of us went down the staircase, ready to devour our french toast breakfast. The aroma was unbelievable. The beast inside me licked it's teeth and lips, ready to pounce on her prey. And so we did when I got to the table. The grains of wheat tore apart, bleeding maple syrup from it's very core. My own sharp choppers sank into the piece I cut, saliva covering the delicacy delightfully. I probably ate normally from the two others' points of view, but only myself knew that I was feeling like the carnivorous predator again. All over some french toast. Before I could realize the invisible spaces on my plate, my food was gone. Though my stomach was satisfied, my mind was not. It wanted more monstorous action.
"Jeez, you downed that quickly, Ariana", my eldest sibling croaked.
"Yeah. I was starving", I spoke before milk was downed down my throat. The cool sensation going downwards made my stomach flutter pleasantly. Over my glass, I saw that Dad was looking at me with a perplexed, and even somewhat suspicious, expression, almost as if I possibly stole something. Apparently, Mades noticed this, too, and he looked back at him with the same look splattered upon his lightly-freckled face. I simply stared, expecting something to be said.
"Never mind," he said quietly under his breath. "I'm going off to work. See you later, Mades, Ariana.", he replied to his own comment. "Get dressed, brush your hair and teeth, the norm. Be out the door in 30 minute's time.", speaking between kisses on both of our heads as he walked out the door.
We were silent.
"Well...we should get ready like Dad said. Our bus will be around soon", the teen murmured, mostly to himself.
"Yeah, that's a pretty good idea."
I went the opposite way he did into my bathroom. We each had our own back then. Mine had an average-sized bathroom mirror, crisp and light blue walls, drawers filled with my hairbrushes, a toothbrush, a big tube of toothpaste and assorted necessesities. A shower was on the far corner, while a toilet was right across from it. All to myself. Reaching into those oakwood drawers I still remember, I got a hairbrush and combed through a tangled mess of long black tendrils on my head, boring my eyes into their own big and chocolate brown reflections. Now as I think of these past memories, that may have been the very last moment I admired my irises of brown.
Now I present to you, the first chapter of Night Iris:
The town I grew up in was, suprisingly, once called 'the sticks'. There was nothing but a strip mall with a big grocery store called Mayer Frederick, a cheap coffee stand, a couple restaurants and make-up salons. The only places that were not attached to that long strip of stores was probably a few fast-food joints, none of those I can precisely remember. Not far away from the venues, families with preteenagers at eldest raised themselves and their kids. Evergreen trees were sprawled randomly around Covington, so much that we had our own Christmas tree. Covington was a lone, independent place where nobody but family could bother me. You were never rushed to get anywhere thanks to the lack of traffic, nobody cared if you were at your own business and all those good things. It seemed so quickly that everything turned for the opposite; also known as the worst to some.
The most vivid part of my fast-paced life started on a very hot September morning. I woke up to distant murmuring and something solid poking into my shoulder. It was amazingly irritating. A film of raged blindness covered my closed eyes. Red dots danced in the dark. Go AWAY, my mind growled threateningly.
"Wake up, we've got to go...", soft whispers of distant nothings turned into quiet English. "Really, come on, get up.", a very familiar voice said. It was the same one as before, I realized. My father.
"Why?", I fluttered my eyes open and spoke through my gritted jaws.
"First day of school, kid. It's lame to be late for that, you know."
I don't think I did much more than grunt in dismissal. Back then, I didn't have any energy in the morning to do anything more than speak a couple words. I would stay up late at night in fear of things that could happen, that did take place. The emotion fed off my energy greedily constantly, and my first awakening of the day was never willing.
Back in the present, suddenly, my body was flung amazing heights up into the air and over a strong shoulder. The shock wore off immediately and the rest of me fell limp. My eyes wandered into the hall, meeting an older boys' olive green eyes and dissheveled blond hair. I recognized the appearance of my guardian angel, official hero and full-blood brother, Mades. I felt the irritation turn into sparkling admiration in my chest. My blank grimace turned into a bright beam as we stopped by his room.
"I would really hate to break my back going down the stairs with the both of you on me, son. Come down here and get ready on your own or risk getting a cracked skull".
Mades nodded in understanding, his thick locks getting into his eyes. How can he be so alert at this hour?..., my mind pondered proudly and darkly at the same time.
The three of us went down the staircase, ready to devour our french toast breakfast. The aroma was unbelievable. The beast inside me licked it's teeth and lips, ready to pounce on her prey. And so we did when I got to the table. The grains of wheat tore apart, bleeding maple syrup from it's very core. My own sharp choppers sank into the piece I cut, saliva covering the delicacy delightfully. I probably ate normally from the two others' points of view, but only myself knew that I was feeling like the carnivorous predator again. All over some french toast. Before I could realize the invisible spaces on my plate, my food was gone. Though my stomach was satisfied, my mind was not. It wanted more monstorous action.
"Jeez, you downed that quickly, Ariana", my eldest sibling croaked.
"Yeah. I was starving", I spoke before milk was downed down my throat. The cool sensation going downwards made my stomach flutter pleasantly. Over my glass, I saw that Dad was looking at me with a perplexed, and even somewhat suspicious, expression, almost as if I possibly stole something. Apparently, Mades noticed this, too, and he looked back at him with the same look splattered upon his lightly-freckled face. I simply stared, expecting something to be said.
"Never mind," he said quietly under his breath. "I'm going off to work. See you later, Mades, Ariana.", he replied to his own comment. "Get dressed, brush your hair and teeth, the norm. Be out the door in 30 minute's time.", speaking between kisses on both of our heads as he walked out the door.
We were silent.
"Well...we should get ready like Dad said. Our bus will be around soon", the teen murmured, mostly to himself.
"Yeah, that's a pretty good idea."
I went the opposite way he did into my bathroom. We each had our own back then. Mine had an average-sized bathroom mirror, crisp and light blue walls, drawers filled with my hairbrushes, a toothbrush, a big tube of toothpaste and assorted necessesities. A shower was on the far corner, while a toilet was right across from it. All to myself. Reaching into those oakwood drawers I still remember, I got a hairbrush and combed through a tangled mess of long black tendrils on my head, boring my eyes into their own big and chocolate brown reflections. Now as I think of these past memories, that may have been the very last moment I admired my irises of brown.