The Photograph On The Wall

There's a photograph on the wall. Two people are in it. Laughing. Smiling. Connected. Together. Two souls joined through a beautiful, unexplainable force: love.

There's so much joy emanating from this photo. The green trees in the background. The bright sunlit sky. The way their eyes hold each other's. The laughter showing in the very way they hold their bodies. The trust visible in her arm around her waist, her hand on his knee. Everything in this photo is how it should be.

Fingertips linger lightly on this glossy photograph. Trembling fingers that only a short while ago had caressed his face. Even if it weren't for the tears welling up in her vision, she wouldn't be able to recognize these two people anymore. They were from a different time. A brighter time. A time when she knew. A time when there was no question about letting go. She didn't have to hold on. Because he had been there. Always. Been there. ...Always.

These people in this photograph... They were strong. They were confident. They had all the answers. No questions hung over them like dark clouds threatening to storm. No fears pestered them when moments were quiet. Neither felt like the slightest gust of wind could shred them apart like wet tissue paper.

Who were these people, she wondered. And why had "always" really only meant "for now"?

Just a short, random thing written when I really should have been getting ready for bed. Thanks for reading!

A Morning At The Beach

Soft white light was leaking through her eyelids. She blinked against the light, furrowing her brow as she snuggled up around herself. It was cool, breezy. She had fallen asleep on something coarse but warm.... Slowly she opened her eyes. Ah, yes. The beach. The sun was just barely peaking over the calm ocean waters. The morning was her favorite time to be on the beach. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful. So white and serene. It was like a little slice of heaven all to herself.

Smiling softly to herself, she sat up, brushing the sand off her face. Her hand froze on her cheek as she felt sand had caked on her skin, as if it had been wet.... As if she had been crying....

Suddenly the events of last night came flooding back to her memory. Grief swelled up inside her chest and throat, overwhelming her. Grief swiftly morphed into rage and she found herself standing up, staring out at the horizon as fresh tears threatened to choke the life from her.

Something flashed in her vision and her eyes flickered down to whatever it was. Several feet in front of her, laying in the sand, was the silver diamond ring. A sob shoved its way through and she stormed to the ring, snatching up it up. Despite how warm the sand was, the ring was still cold. Tears now streaming down her face, she clenched the ring in her fist, kissing her fist softly, before looking back up to the horizon and tossing the ring out in to the water.

He was gone. He was never coming back.

Inspired by an acting exercise done in class one day. 

A Very Poor Substitute

Morganne knows this feeling all too well. This fear, this creeping terror clawing it’s way through her heart. She knows that as soon as she pulls on her pajamas and turns off the lights, the vulnerability, the loneliness is going to force it’s way out of her throat. She can feel it already working it’s way through as it has been periodically all day.

She knows she should be happy. She should be excited for the future, there’s so much in store and, to be honest, she really is excited. But right now she’s more lonely. Like she needs nothing more than a pair of arms wrapped around her. She knows how safe she’d feel then. Nothing would matter then. But those arms are missing and she’s alone and afraid to turn out the lights.

So Morganne slips into her pajamas and grabs her teddy bear, clutching him tightly to her chest. For a moment she just stands there, hugging the bear, her mouth pressed deep into his head as the tears scream to be released. If she couldn’t have those warm and safe arms to nestle in to, this teddy would have to do.
Slowly at first, but then with a jolt of determination, she makes her way to the light switch and flicks it off. Almost immediately the flood gates are opened. Morganne chokes back a sob and finds she has to practically crawl to her bed, pulling the covers high up to her chin.

Why is it, she wonders through the blinding tears, that loneliness is much more suffocating in the dark? Quite literally suffocating, too. Even if she weren’t silently sobbing, she knows she’d be finding it hard to breathe. And there’s nothing you can do, either, her heart moans. A stuffed animal and warm blankets are a very poor substitute for love.

I think most everyone can relate to this sort of suffocating loneliness. Thanks for reading!

Please (Pleas, Part Nine)

Horrified dread swelled up in his heart as her limp body registered in his dazed mind. Something snapped inside of him and he scurried forward, falling to his knees and gently cradling her in his arms.

"Please," he chocked, traitorous tears obscuring his vision. He brushed her long, black hair out of her eyes as tremors ran through his body. The air seemed to press on his lungs as he rocked back and forth, begging her to say something.

"Please," he whispered. "Please…"

But no one would hear him. No one was there to answer his cry of distress.

"Please…"

And there you have it: we've come full circle. Thank you for reading this! I hope you... enjoyed this. Enjoyed probably isn't the right word for a story like this, but you know what I'm getting at.

Battered (Pleas, Part Eight)

A year had passed and they finally had a lead. She'd been keeping a low profile (which he found odd) especially after the brief glimpse they had caught nine months ago.

But now there was a rumor of an infamous con back in action and not up to her game. Through much persistence, patience, and hard work, they'd gotten a location and were on their way.

He'd run ahead of the others, calling out her name. A small hut allowed him in as he burst open the door, stopping short.

Her battered body greeted him, sprawled daintily across the floor.

The point of view, obviously, has changed. The rest of the parts will be from his point of view instead of hers. Thanks for reading!

Ache (Pleas, Part Seven)

Six months had passed. It had gotten to the point where it literally ached to think of him. She longed to simply see him, to catch a passing glance of him in a crowd. She'd found a place to stay for a while and she'd made a friend or two. She wished to let out her pain to them but was afraid they'd find her childish. She wanted to run home, to take the initiative, to find him herself but was afraid of the rejection she was sure she'd be handed. So, impatiently, she waited for him to find her.

Thanks for reading!

Find (Pleas, Part Six)

He had figured her out. Somehow, he knew. From what she could tell, it scared him. He figured out her flirtations towards him weren't simply part of her nature, but true, sincere…if not playful. She'd unwittingly let it slip and, this time, he believed her. She could plainly tell this knowledge unnerved him… it sure as hell scared her.

Being the coward she truly was, she'd run. She made certain to let go of all physical affiliation with him yet she was learning her heart and mind refused to let go.

So now she waited for him to find her.

Thanks for reading!

Smile (Pleas, Part Five)

His smile had made her smile. That familiar twinkle in his eye had made her heart swell with an inexpressible happiness. She couldn't explain it. Him just being there made the world a brighter place, however much she hated to admit it.

She didn't need more than a smile out of him to make her world complete. She knew everyone else would laugh at her simple, schoolgirl like crush. But she also knew it wasn't that simple. For the first time in her life, she actually was in love with someone.

Too bad that smile had only been a dream.

Thanks for reading!

Pretend (Pleas, Part Four)

She wouldn't see him again. Of that, she was glad. That's what she told herself, at least. She'd never see any of them again.

For some reason, that made her heart ache. She'd grown to love them. To delight in their friendship. Now she'd lost it.

A few weeks had passed and now she was on a new adventure. She'd accidentally met up with them once. A visit to the old diner and, of course, who happened to show up? She'd said a quick good-bye, a silent prayer and ran out.

Pretend you don't notice his eyes on your back.

Thanks for reading! 

Imprint (Pleas, Part Three)

Forever was the image imprinted in her mind. The split second image, yet stuck with her until all eternity.

Just get it over with and do it.

His eyes closed, his lips pure and pink. Closer and closer as she reached her head forward and went up on her toes. Then black as lips touched. Turn around. Don't look at him. Blink back the tears. Run away. Run forever. Leave behind the tender memories.

No, the memories would never leave. They were stuck there, always taunting her.

And that image was imprinted. Imprinted as to never leave her in peace.

Thanks for reading.

No Longer (Pleas, Part Two)

Never had she felt like this before. She felt utterly exhausted, yes, but also hopeless beyond all repair. Her tears and pleas had died out hours before and now she could only lay on the floor, her eyes closed but unable to slip into slumber.

No one would bother her, of that she was positive. The one person who ever would have bothered her no longer cared. No longer was there to hold her in his arms and assure her that everything was all right, everything was okay.

She was alone. No longer would she try.

She was completely alone.

Maybe I should warn you now... This story is a tragedy. There is no happiness in this thing.

Pleas (Part One)

For hours on end, that was the only word she could say as she lay on the floor, tossing and turning, sobbing without breath.

"Please," she begged. "Please…"

Her long, black hair got in her eyes and tremors ran through her body. The darkness of her own quarters pressed down on her as she pleaded that she wouldn't have to endure this. She felt utterly helpless as she curled into a ball, hiding her head in her arms.

"Please," she whispered. "Please…"

But no one would hear her. No one was there to answer to her cry of distress.

"Please…"

Sorry I missed yesterday: I wasn't at home most of the day and completely forgot.

This is the first of a series of ten 100 word drabbles.

Split Minds

His name was Mr. Martin. James Martin III. He was tall and broad. His hair was dark and neatly combed, with a slight shine of gel. His eyes were bright in a dark way: bright in color, yet dark in tone and nature. He wore a black fashionable suit, of course not always the same one, but always black and always in style. He never wore a hat. His shoes were black and always boasted a perfect gleam. He always wore his black leather gloves, an unfailingly classy touch. Every mannerism about him made others whisper of Mr. Martin’s ornrey personality. To tell the truth, he might’ve been purposefully acting in such a manner.

He liked to yell. He would yell in a way that could bring even the strongest of men to his knees. His lips seemed to be permanently curled into a disapproving frown. He was proud and independent. He had strong opinions and had no issues with letting them be known. But he was a man of the upper class, so his opinions, no matter how outrageous, would rarely ever get him into trouble. However, it did mean he had no close or true friends. No one to confide in when the pressures of life brought him down. No one to gossip with, no one to buy a friendly round of beer for or share an expensive cigar with. All he had were his servants. No wife, no relatives who cared to ever pay him a visit. Just the hired persons who scurried about in his mansion, tending to his daily needs and cares.

But what need of a friend did James Martin III have anyway?

As far as Mr. Martin knew, she didn’t have a name. She never told him anything about herself, though there were a few things he could infer.
~~~~
She was only a few years younger than Mr. Martin’s eight and twenty years, around three and twenty, perhaps. Her hair was brunette, large and curly. Sometimes there would be a band holding it back, but it would still just lay there with very little effort put into it. She was about his height, perhaps a little a few inches difference, and boasted quite the curvaceous figure. Her eyes were a light mix of colors. So far Mr. Martin had picked out blue, green and hazel. Her attire was never the same and she usually wore strange yet comfortable looking pants with numerous zippers, black and white shoes with laces, and a brown jacket over her shirt. Her shirts sometimes had writing on them or strange pictures. Usually Mr. Martin could understand what the writing said but couldn’t understand the meaning and the pictures never made any sort of logical sense. For example, a shirt she seemed to favor that was white and had black script covering the entire fabric had jumbled words all thrown together: “DIET,” “Rely on me,” “Barefoot in Paradise,” “BOMBSHELL” and various other phrases. Very strange, very random.

At first she had been shy, gently berating him or encouraging him, depending on the situation. Slowly, she showed her true side, a hyper and outgoing nature. Most of what he heard from her foreign American accent was jokes or stories. Her loud laugh was one of Mr. Martin’s favorite sounds and he heard it quite often.

After a while, it seemed like she opened up to him a bit more. Every once and a while he would catch her staring off into nothing and suddenly she would notice him and the smile and happy manner would snap on. He sometimes wondered if maybe… maybe the wonderful happiness was just an act. Maybe she was some sort of vaudevillian. That might explain her strange clothing.

However, he knew nothing of her life. Not yet, at least, he would tell himself. To tell the truth, he didn’t even know if she was a piece of fiction or not. Her crude jokes and outlandish clothes made it seem that way. Either that or his vaudevillian theory. And he never saw her out of his mind’s eye. To Mr. Martin’s knowledge, she was simply a figment of his almost non-existent imagination.

This was the beginning of a longer story that never went any further than this. It's a more fantastical outlook on schizophrenia. Eventually, with the many enemies Mr. Martin has made, he's murdered and wakes up in this girl's world: 21st century America. There's a complicated little love story that goes along with it and I believe somehow at some point both Mr. Martin and the girl make it back to 19th century England and ... yeah, I don't remember.

Kitchen

I don't remember the colors of the walls or the floor. There's a strong aroma of food left over from the wedding reception last night. The one physical thing that sticks out the most in my memory is the table. It's a light wood and almost looks homemade. This is home. You can tell by the warmth. Maybe it's the colors that make it warm, but probably not. You see, the most important thing about this kitchen is the people.

I sit at one of the heads of the table, feeling blissful and peaceful. This is home. But I don't live here. Also at the table are my family- or, at least, all of us un-married folk. We're not all related by blood, but by heart. My sister's on her "boyfriend's" lap-- obviously it's before they hit that awkward pre-teen stage. The two little boys have food all over their faces and more is being smeared on. The little girls' so-called “trouble laughs” intermingle with all of the other joyful sounds. I think one of our party feels a bit left out- her older sister's no longer with us and I'm flirting with her brothers more than I had before. One of those boys is being a goof- a typical high school attention-monger boy. The other one's laughing at something I just said, always amused by how weird I am.

We're all so animated, talking, laughing, eating. The night will also consist of a nerf war and piggy back rides. When the cream puffs' bucket is emptied, the still-hungry older boys will blame me. The entirity of the family (sans the newly married couple) joins in a rousing card game, a tradition among us. Laughter and smiles, that's the overpowering sense.

It hurts to be here now. It's the wrong color. It's cold and empty. It's a different table. It isn't a home. It's a kitchen in a house that's sitting between owners. I'm visiting one last time and I can't help but want to cry. I never lived here myself, but it was home. Now it's not. It's almost like this kitchen, this beloved kitchen full of so many heartwarming memories, has died.

This is simply a place I thought of when asked to describe somewhere that meant a lot to me. Also, on a side note, with school officially back in session, I may miss a day or two here and there due to busy work loads. I haven't gotten to that point yet, but it happens every year so I apologize beforehand.

Jack (Part Seven)

The memory of the home came to him and he thought of the life he was supposed to have. Happy and exhilarating. Never lost. Never worn. Instead he would be eaten or trampled or drowned or electrified or some other thing the horrible creatures out here could do to kill him. Lost. Broken. Hungry. Tired.
Still mewling quietly, he curled into a protective ball around himself. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing to eat around here, only rock. He had no idea which way to go. His wing was still screaming out in pain. And he was so, so tired. Sleep. He would sleep. He didn’t know what else to do but sleep. Maybe something terrible would come upon him in his sleep. But he didn’t care. His eyes began to flutter closed. Tired. He was so tired.

But however tired he was, when he heard footsteps treading close, it was his instinct to jump up and look wildly around for the source. Through the fog he could see something walking steadily towards him. It was taller than Mom or the golden lizard, but not as large as the terrible cat. It was shaped a lot like the things that had sent shocks through him, but it was wearing strange material on its body. Long fur came from only its head, flowing down past its neck. It didn’t seem to notice him, but he backed away and made himself as small as possible anyway.

Then, suddenly, it saw him. It stopped walking, staring at him, face seeming concerned. Then it crouched down and slowly began moving towards him, holding out one thing that was not a foot. He cringed away from it, remembering the touch of the smaller creature. It opened its mouth and made a series of sounds which, to his astonishment, he understood.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Blinking in slow surprise, he raised his head, still shying away from what was not a foot, but curious now. The creature smiled comfortingly, and he was reminded of Mom’s gentle smile.

“What happened to your wing? Are you in pain?”

He glanced at his wing, wincing as it brushed against the rough rock.

“You don’t belong on the mountain, do you?”

He looked back to the creature, trying with all his might to convey everything that had happened to this shockingly understanding animal. It smiled again.

“Why don’t we get you back to the forest? We can patch up that wing and get some food in you.”
Food. The forest. Both of these ideas elated him. The creature’s smile broadened.

“Here,” it said softly, gently slipping what was not feet under his belly and lifting him up. Careful of his injured wing, it set him in the strange material it was wearing. He snuggled up against the warmth of its body, remembering now that he was quite exhausted.

“You go ahead and get some sleep,” it whispered. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He closed his eyes, a contended chirp trilling in his throat. The step of the creature was steady and lulling, helping him relax. Somehow he trusted this creature. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing on this mountain that hadn’t tried to kill him. Perhaps it was the calming effect its voice had. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Something he could sense, but couldn’t quite pick out.

It was giving him a chance to rest. It was going to help his wing. It was going to find him some food. It was helping him get off this mountain. Maybe it would even give him a place to hide and stay!

“My name’s Georgina, by the way,” it whispered as it continued on down the mountain. This idea intrigued him, and he blearily poked his head out to look at her curiously. She grinned, getting the message.

“Do you not have a name? Why don’t we call you... Jack.”

He gave a pleased chirp and she chuckled.

“I’m glad you like it. Now, seriously. Get some rest.”

Jack chirped again, tucking his head back against her warm skin. Then slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes drooped, and he fell asleep.

And thus is the conclusion of Jack's story. Jack will have more adventures with Georgina in my novel series: The Gisola Trilogy.

Jack (Part Six)

Then he realized why the two-legged animals had left in such a hurry. Why the mountain had turned so silent. Now he even understood why the bird had been so startled and petrified enough to have dropped him.

A terrible roar rang in the newborn’s ears, and his eyes opened in pure terror. Hurdling towards him was a creature larger even than the golden lizard and Mom. It didn’t seem to be as big as the thing that had scared the bird, but it was the same sort of creature. It was covered in brown and black striped fur. It seemed to have no control over its long and naked tail, which whipped back and forth dangerously with every step. Around its head was a mane of shaggy fur. Its mouth seemed to take up most of its face, and, as it bounded closer and closer, the newborn could see rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth.

The newborn knew he needed to run, he needed to hide. He needed to disappear into the fog just as every other creature had done. But his legs and wings simply would not move. The ground below him was vibrating under the weight of the huge cat sprinting towards him now, but the newborn simply could not move. Fear had paralyzed him so that all he could do was stare as the animal dashed through the dense fog.

When the animal was only a few steps away, the newborn shut his eyes tightly in anticipation. The sudden weight of the creature’s foot landed on his right wing, a claw digging through the delicate limb. The cat continued on its way, never noticing the small lizard. Crying out in pain as the claw tore through his wing, the newborn’s eyes opened, barely realizing he had escaped sure death. He wasn’t even entirely aware of the pathetic mewling he was uttering. Through the pain and tears, he attempted to gingerly move the torn wing and found that it simply wasn’t possible. Dreading what he would find, he curled his head around to examine it only to see that it was barely hanging on to the rest of his body. Horror and grief welled up inside his stomach. He would never be able to fly. He was confined to the ground. The thrill of the wind whipping past his face high above the trees would never be his to experience.

There really was no possible way to ever go home. To ever see Mom. More tears spilled over at the thought of Mom, her image swimming in his mind’s eye. Terror coursed through his entire body. He didn’t know what to do. All hope abandoned him as he realized just how lost he was. How lost and tired. How tired and crippled.

Next part will be posted tomorrow.

Jack (Part Five)

A strangling sense of grief built up inside the newborn, and he fell down on his tail, staring blankly in the area that the golden creature had left. If not even his own kind was nice here on this dark mountain, how would he ever get off? How would he ever go home? How would he ever be safe again? How would he ever see Mom again? A lump formed in the newborn’s throat, tears welling in his eyes. He wasn’t going to get off this mountain. He wasn’t going to go home. He was going to be stuck here, an easy target for every creature.

Through his depression, something twinged at the newborn’s senses. Yet another creature had arrived. Blinking away the tears, the newborn frowned at the strangely beautiful creature. It was only slightly taller than he, but it only stood on two legs. It had pale, smooth skin and black eyes shaped like his own. Two limbs like legs came out of its side, but they didn’t seem to be used for walking. The newborn frowned at it as it glided closer. On its toes and the toes of what weren’t legs the skin was no longer smooth, but scaly like the newborn’s skin. The thing seemed to smile at him with its flat face, reaching out what wasn’t a foot towards him. The newborn drew his head away from the creature, but didn’t back up. He was mesmerised by the strange beauty of this thing. But something gnawed inside of him, trying to tell him not to place his trust in this. He ignored it. He only was afraid because everything else here had been terrible and mean. Just because his own kind wasn’t going to help didn’t mean that nothing would.

Timidly, the newborn began to reach out his neck to let the creature touch him. When what wasn’t toes touched his scales, a slight shock rushed through his body but he didn’t back away. Instead, he pressed his face against the smooth skin. More shocks ran through his body with more strength. After a while, as the creature placed more and more contact on the newborn’s scales, the newborn realized something was wrong. These shocks were painful. This wasn’t good. In alarm, he opened his eyes to see it wasn’t just one creature touching him anymore. It was several, all of their black eyes gleaming with something frightening. The newborn tried to shake them off but found he couldn’t move. Panic and terror building up inside of him yet again, the newborn shuddered as the shocks pulsed through his body, his knees giving way. The creatures started humming, and the newborn closed his eyes, simply waiting for it to end.

Then the humming stopped. All contact with the creatures disappeared, and the mountain seemed to turn deathly quiet. Too exhausted to move, the newborn simply stayed where he was, legs and wings splayed out and eyes shut. Something was very wrong, he knew, but he couldn’t move. And, really, he didn’t want to.

Again, I apologize for the break, but I'm back! Next part will be posted tomorrow and there should be only a couple more parts left.

Jack (Part Four)

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished. Even though his eyes were closed, however, the newborn could sense he still wasn’t alone. Breathing shakily, he opened one eye to see an odd looking creature mere inches from his face. Squawking again, he jumped backwards. The creature simply jerked its head and let out a low croak from the back of its throat. It had slimy looking skin and a round squat body. The newborn gulped when he noticed a bit of the plant creature’s leaf-ear sticking out from this new creature’s mouth. The most interesting thing about this animal, though, was the color of its skin. Millions of bright colors shimmered in the dim light, and the colors were constantly moving as if they had minds of their own. The newborn looked around, eyes wide, as several others hopped up towards him. Something nudged him from behind, and he looked around to see two coaxing him forward. Warily, he took a couple uneven steps forward. All the rainbow colored animals seemed pleased by this, and a few in front of him hopped in the same direction, the two behind him giving him another gentle push.

The newborn then realized they were trying to lead him somewhere. Maybe these creatures were nice! Maybe he could make a friend, and maybe they could help him find his way home! Pace quickening, the newborn waddled along, the bright creatures hopping on all sides of him. Soon they reached a thick black pool of something. The newborn’s nose wrinkled at the awful smell, and he watched with interest as several of the creatures eagerly hopped in the terrible smelling stuff, easily swimming around. The two behind him gave him a more forceful push, and he skidded to the edge, a bit of his foot falling into the stuff. He stuck his tongue out in disgust, pulling his foot back quickly. The stuff was sticky and extremely thick. How these creatures swam so freely in it made no sense to him.

Without warning, the two bright creatures behind him jumped on top of his head, their weight pushing his face directly into the black liquid. He cried out in protest and tried to flip the creatures off with his wings only to have more of them hop on. Any movement he tried to make to get rid of them only increased the number on top of him. Farther and farther his face was pushed into the liquid. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t even hear. Panic began to rise inside of him, and he wriggled furiously, but to no avail. Just as he thought it was over, the pressure of the creatures left. He yanked his head out of the thick liquid, coughing as air rushed through his body once more. He turned to see why the rainbow animals had left and felt something rush happily through him. He let out an excited chirp towards the thing waddling away.

At the sound of the newborn’s voice, the animal turned with a frown. The newborn let out another thrilled trill. It was the same animal as him! It was the same animal as Mom! This one was a dull gold and seemed much older than Mom, but it was the same animal! The newborn quickly bounded towards it. The large lizard let out of huff of breath and flicked out one of its front legs toward the newborn, kicking him back. The newborn flew backwards and hit the ground, blinking in confusion. Quickly, he got back to his feet and stared as the animal waddled away, soon disappearing into the fog.

This is the point where I would usually say the next part will be posted tomorrow, but, unfortunately, I cannot guarantee that. I am traveling tomorrow and am unsure of what my internet access will be like for the next few days. I will try to continue to update daily, but if not, I will definitely update again on Saturday. Sorry!

Jack (Part Three)

Scared out of his mind, the newborn watched with wide eyes as the trees below whipped past. The forest spanned farther than he could see from side to side. In front of him, growing closer and closer, was a tall and dark mountain. Maybe it was the terror already settled in his throat, maybe it was the dense fog preventing him to see just how far up the mountain went, maybe it was the lack of trees and large amounts of black rock covering the surface of the mountain. Whatever it was, the newborn began to squirm in the bird’s claws, wanting anything but to get closer to the nearing mountain. But the creature’s grip was strong, and the sharp edges of the claws dug into the newborn’s tender underbelly. There was no way out.

The comforting green seemed to vanish as they sped forward, dark angry rock glaring at the newborn. They flew higher and higher, scaling the side of the mountain too fast for the newborn to see if there was any life on the stony surface. A sudden roar filled the newborn’s ears, and his captor shrieked in shock and fear, its grip loosening on the newborn. Thanks to his earlier squirming, he slipped from the bird’s claws and fell to the mountain fast, managing to only catch a faraway glimpse of striped fur belonging to what had scared the bird.

Chirping in fear the entire fall, the newborn closed his eyes in preparation for the impact. He hit the rock hard, knocking the wind out of him. He rolled downwards for a moment before hitting a bit of rock that jutted out more. There he stayed, eyes still tightly shut, trying desperately to catch his breath. His whole body ached from the impact. Slowly, without opening his eyes, he tested his wings to make sure they weren’t hurt. They ached, but he would be fine. He wasn’t going to be eaten by that bird anymore. But.... Timidly, he opened his eyes. He was still many days away from home and Mom.

Still too frightened to move, he looked around, taking in the cold, hard surroundings. Though the majority of what he saw was black angry rock, small green life sprouted out from the cracks here and there. Each plant seemed to have two tall, thin leaves. The newborn frowned at one closer to him. Could he eat this stuff? Cautiously, he lifted his head and opened his mouth to chomp down. Suddenly the plant jumped up. A short, surprised squawk came out of the newborn’s mouth, and he skittered back. The plant wasn’t a plant, it was a creature! Those leaves weren’t leaves, they were large ears! Instead of a root, it had a long brown body with countless numbers of tiny legs. The leaf-ears cocked to one side as small beady eyes stared at the newborn. The newborn stared back. Several other plant creatures popped up around him, all staring at him in curiosity. Abruptly, as if some unspoken signal had been given, they all swarmed towards him. The newborn let out a shriek, backing up only to find more coming from behind. Terror building up in his throat again, he closed his eyes and cowered as thousands of tiny feet crawled over him.

Ooo, a cliffhanger. I love cliffhangers. Don't you? Part four will be posted tomorrow.

Jack (Part Two)

Mom pulled back, a low and pleased rumble settling deep in her throat. He stared at Mom in awe. She was beautiful. She was large compared to him, but next to the trees surrounding them, she was fairly small. Deep purple scales covered her body, from the tip of her nose down to the end of her long tail. She lay curled up, her newborn tucked between all four legs, snuggled warmly against her belly which radiated heat. Her eyes were like slits, a light violet color, and the corners of her lips curved upwards in a loving smile. The newborn quickly looked down at himself, hoping to see a miniature version of Mom. He was disappointed. Instead of the beautiful dark purple, he saw an almost harsh maroon. Otherwise, he looked exactly the same, but this disappointment still made tears well up in his eyes.

A huff of air hit his face, and he looked up in surprise to see Mom frowning at him in concern. She’d noticed the tears. She brushed her nose against his head again, letting him know that, whatever was wrong, it would be okay. She was here. And the newborn knew that, as long as Mom was around, everything would be okay.

Only the next day, the newborn learned the uglier side of life. Mom had let him venture out from her protective grasp, and he was pouncing around, testing out his wings. Already they were beginning to strengthen, and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before Mom could start teaching him how to fly. He was excited for this adventure. The idea of exploring what was beyond the roof of the trees high above him thrilled him. Jumping off the ground and vaulting himself from patch of grass to patch of grass was electrifying already! However, in his excitement, the newborn didn’t quite realize how far from Mom he was getting. The familiar chirp of her voice called his attention to this fact and he looked up, alarmed at the frantic tone in the trill. Before he could make a further move a large, sharp claw grabbed him around the midriff, lifting him off the ground and flying up quickly through the trees.

Letting out a surprised and terrified shriek, the newborn looked up to see what kind of creature had stolen him away from Mom. It had a scrawny body, but its wingspan was wider than Mom was tall. Its face was ugly and pointed, sharp teeth peeking through its mouth. It squawked, looking down to the newborn with a yellow gleam of hunger in its eyes. The newborn let another terrified chirp pass through his lips and looked back to see Mom steadily rising up over the tops of the trees. But the bird creature was much faster than Mom could ever be, and it wasn’t long before the newborn lost sight of her completely.

I've decided it's entirely too difficult to split up something like this. I hope that doesn't show too much in how I've decided to split the story. Part three will be posted tomorrow!