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| Final Star: Book I; a story i've been working on for years. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 21 2006, 09:47 PM (36 Views) | |
| Akira | Aug 21 2006, 09:47 PM Post #1 |
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Final Star Series [size0]In the making. Book I of IV. “For far too long have we wasted our days here. This is our time to break free and take what has rightfully been promised to us as his son’s.” [size0]All work © of Ryan W. McVeigh Book I: The Hope within the Obsidian Introduction: Prelude, Final Star There before him appeared a black and red ocean. Thousands of pairs of colorful eyes protruded through the ocean. They cheered for him bellow his perch upon the cliff above them. His immortal perch, setting him along side the gods. As banners flapped in the wind, his insignia sprawled across every one of them, a devilish grin escaped from his stone like appearance, a great statue before his people. Extending his arm, shaping his hand into the symbol of obedience among his land, “Hail Orion’s final star!” The crowd before him chanted. To the people he had no name only the title Orion’s Final Star. However once, long ago, before the dawn of the demonic empire and the legacy of Orion this figure housed a name, Akira. He was a man of average height and build. Dawned in a military general’s apparel, the suit was stained all over in an almost blood red hue. The jacket hugged his body, like a new born child may hug its mother, with only two buttons holding it on. His shoes, black as the night’s sky over the country fields, sparkled with an intensity one may catch themselves give when they stare at their lover. He was covered in medals that would insinuate some sort of military service. Around his neck, he had a pair of large demonic bat wings draped about him, connected only by a chain. He wore it as a king might wear his cape. His hair contained the same lack of pigment as the wings about him (which is to say they were black with no pigment at all). Cut to a length where the bangs barely graced his eyes the pleasure of viewing the occurrences around him. Atop his head sat a general’s hat, with golden leaves separating the brim from the fabric. He appeared no older than twenty, but behind his eyes laid an all knowing gaze as if he had been living since the dawn of existence. It is this that leads into the first section, to a distant past before an empire, before the death of the hero and the writer. A time before Orion’s Final Star and when he was still Akira, but in his human state, the brother of the Hope of Obsidian. ________________________________________________________________ Chapter I: Murder on Innocent Hands A large white corridor lay before him. It was deserted besides himself and an ominous figure seemingly at the end of the hall. On each side of him were doors, separated by only a few feet. The only thing that stood out was his attire and that of the figure standing in front of the large white door at the end of this seemingly endless hall. The door had strange markings across it, as if it were a mural of things that have passed and things to come. The door knobs were of the emptiest black hue, matching this boys own attire. The figure opposite him was dawned in a white suite that matched the hall, making him almost invisible to the regular eye. He tried to go towards the figure, but with every one of his steps the end of the hall seemed to increase just as much. His walk evolved into a brisk jog, and then again into a run as he attempted to catch the figure he shouted many words and phrases across the hall, but nothing ever escaped his lips. The figure leapt across the hall landing in front of him, seemingly trading attire with him but it soon evaporated revealing new forms for them both. As he had turned into a tall, lanky demonic figure the boy opposite him appeared to be rapped entirely in bandages, with the exception of his left eye, with a long black flowing trench coat resting upon his shoulders. The two lunged across the hall, weapons drawn ready for combat. As the blood bath began he awoke. ________________________________________________________________ Akira awoke; sweat dripping from every pore on his body. Reaching to the table on the left side of his bed, he grabbed his glasses. Placing them on his face, the faded images surrounding him soon came into focus. “Koji,” he mumbled under his breath. As this name escaped his lips his gaze went from the floor to the door that blocked his room from the rest of his home. The boy stood up, cracking his neck and periodically his fingers as what would appear to be a nervous habit, as he moved to open the door. His image was reflected within the door knob, a young almost frail looking boy. He was not very tall, five foot five maybe five foot six at the most, his clothes, or what appeared to be his sleeping attire (more commonly known as pajamas) hung loosely on his entire body. His eyes were of the purest shade of blue; the color seemed as if it could sweep you away if you looked into the eyes of this boy for too long, but his seemingly long shaggy like black hair held back the gaze of serenity so to the viewer all they could see was emptiness. He turned the door knob, stepping back to pull the door to the side. Exiting his room he moved towards the bathroom. Reaching for the handle to enter, a blur seemed to pass him, knocking him out of the way and closing the bathroom door simultaneously. “KOJI! I need to get ready, I’m going to be late as it is,” Akira shouted at the bathroom door. “That’s too bad isn’t it squirt,” the figure inside the bathroom let out laugh, “I have to go meet Alex this morning so you’re out of luck.” “I don’t have time for your ****, school’s starting and if I’m late again I’ll get in serious trouble with mom,” the boy outside the bathroom said, a sort of impatience and anger filling his mouth now. “What did you say,” questioned the boy from the bathroom. He had now opened the door and poked his head out so he was looking face to face with his younger brother. His face was pale, which made his jade green eyes even scarier to on lookers. His brown hair was cut short, with the bangs gaining length as they moved to the right side. “I’m not gonna ask you again, what did you say?” “I said hurry up,” his look of anger and impatience had faded into a passive look containing fear and worry. “Whatever,” as he spoke a car horn was heard by them both. They ran to the window to see many older high school kids in a car shouting at the one boy, Koji. “Come on Koji let’s get a move on it,” stood out the most as a girl shouted up. “Ok Alex I’ll be there in a second.” Akira’s head fell low as he had to put up with more and more crap from his brother and that girl. That girl being his girlfriend, Alex, the two had been dating for a few years now and for those few years Akira had felt at the lowest of the low. Koji had to do everything for her, she was atop a perch among the angels and if reaching that perch meant crushing his brother along the way he didn’t care. That just made Akira’s hate for Koji grow. He stepped out of the door way, walking away the door was thrown into its lock with force that shook the walls. He didn’t move for a few minutes, just standing outside the closed door, listening to his brother and what his girlfriend had to say to him. “Hurry up, we’re all stopping……….” “Ok, I’m almost done just let me get……” His selective hearing was kicking in again. As the words cut in and out, Akira found himself wandering away. Down the steps and into the kitchen he passed his mother, without a word. Grabbing a pop tart from the opened bag on the kitchen counter, he leapt up atop the counter, sitting now getting a full view of the kitchen. It was mostly white, a white that shined with the exuberance of a pearl, marble tile lined the floor. Slowly his attention was dragged to the multiple tables and counters in the room. A mostly black color to offset the excess of white in the kitchen, they housed plenty of silver utensils. His eyes were drawn to the stove, built into the counter set in the middle of the kitchen which he happened to be sitting on. Leaping down, he took the time to admire the stove. Noting down its qualities, 4 stainless steel circular rings which were the conductors for the heat. Reaching to the dial which controlled the flames, he set it to two which was a small flame at best. He was hypnotized by the flame, a red orange color. Dancing around the coils of the stove, the fire was reflected in his eyes. They seemed to be responding to each other resembling some strange mating dance of prehistoric proportions. “Playing with the fire again,” questioned a voice from the doorway. The dial seemed to fly back to zero, as if a supernatural force had pushed it back. Akira looked up, his eyes coming in contact with the woman’s in the doorway. “Don’t scare me like that mom,” he tried to play it off like it was nothing, but something had really gotten a hold of him before. “Shouldn’t you be ready,” she replied with another question. “I would be, but that bastard……,” catching the gaze his mother was firing at him he changed up his wording, “I mean, but Koji is taking forever in there.” His mother still didn’t seem too fond of his language, but she was more focused on his performance at school for the time being. “Come with me.” Following his mother, she seemed to glide up the steps; he had to skip every other step just to keep up with her pace. She stopped in front of the bathroom door looking at him. Exchanging stares Akira began to spit out, “What are…..” Raising her hand up, she signaled that he should be quite. Quickly closing his mouth, trying to retract the beginnings of the statement he had uttered, he stared at her with a confused stare. Lightly, she tapped her knuckles against the door, creating a sound like when a bird pecks at a tree. Nothing, she tapped again with a little more force. The door was aggressively thrown up, “What?!?” Koji poked his head out, his initial expression was of annoyance insomnia, but it slowly melted into a smile upon seeing his mothers face, “Hi mom, how are you this morning,” he said trying to cover up his mistake. “Let your brother use the bathroom,” she said a sternness only a parent can use trailed her sentence. “But mom I haven’t fin……,” she cut him off, “You look ready to me.” She said checking him from head to toe. His socks were on his feet, hanging loosely off his ankles but on his feet none the less. Jeans covered his legs; however the belt was missing allowing a slight peak at his boxers. He had on a blue shirt with a design on it that resembled sky scenery. “Now let your brother in.” Releasing his grip on the door knob, Koji sulked out of the bathroom. As he passed his brother the only thing he had for him was a death glare, not even anything to say. “Thanks mom,” he said as he rushed into the bathroom. Resting his hands against the sink his head was hung low before he looked up. Staring at his reflection he looked like he wanted to say something. Something about his reflection was different. He couldn’t quite tell, whether it was because his glasses had fallen off into the sink or that his hair was covering his eyes, he couldn’t see. He lifted his hair up and put on his glasses. “WHAT THE HELL!?!” He shouted. Something was different about his left eye. It wasn’t there anymore, it looked like an upside down cross. It appeared carved in, as if it was a design on some raggedy doll. He fell back into the tub behind him, ripping down the shower curtains with him in a futile attempt to regain his balance. “I…I think I’m washed up,” he mumbled under his breath. Quickly he ran into his room and threw everything into one bag, slipping it over his head. He ran back down the stairs, “Bye mom.” He spat out as he flew past the kitchen entrance. She poked her head out to say some motherly thing like, “Have a nice day”or, “Bye Hun, have fun at school.” But he was gone before she knew it. He slipped under the garage door, turning his head as he heard the squeal of tires to the pavement. It was Koji and his friends leave. A somber look spread across his face as he watched them ride away. Throwing open the door, he grabbed his bike and made his way to school. Reading his watch he realized there wasn’t much time left to dawdle. “I’m gonna be late again,” he mumbled frantically. His heart was pounding as he peddled, as what seemed for his life. He was moving at such a velocity, almost unthinkable for a bicycle. 7:50. “Only five minutes. I’ll never make it on time,” with his fear of being late increased he seemed to gain adrenaline. The wind was moving at such a speed, a spectator may assume the boy would blow away with such a frail build. 7:52. Time was closing in on him. In the distance he could make out the beginning of a large silhouette. The building extended to the left and the right, while reaching 4 stories. “I’m gonna make it,” his outlook of misery and taken a 180 as he saw his school in the distance. 7:53. frantically he slammed the break on his bike as he pulled up to the bike racks. Throwing it into a slot and flipping the chain around the front tire, he ran through the front doors brushing passed dozens of students. 7:54. Even though he made it he would never stop at his locker and make it to his first class in one minute. 7:55. as the bell rang, signifying the start of school, his run slowed to a snails slither. He was late, again. Slinking along, he arrived at his locker. Something had been bothering him the whole way here, and it wasn’t that he could be late. Out of the corner of his eye, when he grabbed his bike, he could’ve sworn tiny little creatures were running around grabbing at his feet. He brushed it out of his mind, “Probably spiders”. As he reached up to grab the book for his first class, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Well, well, Mr. Ishiama why aren’t we in class,” questioned a voice from behind him. “I was late getting to school, sir,” he spat out, turning around to face the principal. He was a short man, maybe a few inches taller than Akira. He wasn’t fat, but by no means was he skinny. In a futile attempt to over up his bald spot, he had hair combed over to the right, it looked pathetic. He was dressed in a nice gray suit, with a white button shirt underneath, a blue tie that was a bit of a darker hue than Akira’s eyes, and black shoes that seemed to match his hair. “What did I tell you last time you were late,” he asked him another question. “That it was my last warning, but sir you have to….,” he was cut off. “I don’t “have to” anything. No more excuses Mr. Ishiama. You’re coming with me.” He grabbed Akira’s arm and attempted to drag him, but the boy would not move. His eyes, the purity of the ocean that seemed to reside in them before was lost. They were but a gray color now like the oncoming storm that would prevent one from going out for a walk. He freed his hand and ran in the other direction towards the doors. He looked through his bag throwing out anything that wouldn’t help him now. His hand hit something…..metal. But he didn’t have anything metal, what could it be? Grabbing hold of it, slowly he released the object from his bag. A long katana, sheathed by a beautiful black and silver scabbard was now in his possession. “Mr. Ishiama!” He shouted at him, “You are in severe violation of school policy, under no circumstance is a student permitted to carry a weapon on school premise.” But he didn’t care anymore. The happenings of the morning had broken the innocent soul. His left eye slowly seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving behind a trail of sparkling dust as the upside down cross took its place once again. “What in God’s name is….,” but he was not allowed to utter his final word. The blade and pierced his heart. Slowly, Akira pulled the blade free. Spinning in a full 360 degrees, his blade came in contact with the mans neck, severing it from his body. Regaining his composure he walked back into the school, with the blood stained sword in hand and the dead body behind him. |
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