Pieces

Multiple starts to stories I never finished. The last one was a project for school, so I suppose you could say it is done.

Jade stood, his back facing me, gaze locked on the horizon. I stared at his back, then at the sea, and back to his back again. His long black coat flapped behind him as a cool breeze blew over the cliff we stood on.
“Jade...” I spoke quietly, knowing he would hear me. “Don't go... you don't need to do this!”
“You don't understand, do you? This is what I was born to do. I have to save them... I have to go back,” he spoke just as softly and I almost lost his words to the wind. His head turned to the side as he looked at me, his blue eyes glinting with determination.
I reached a hand out but he shook his head, making me lower my gaze. After a second he shot his arms out to his sides. I jerked my head up as a loud ripping noise shot through the air. Two large, black wings now came out from Jade's back, the feathers shining in the afternoon's light. He didn't look back at me, just muttered a sorry and looked up at the sky. Then he was flying.
Feathers went everywhere, falling from the sky as he shot up and went out across the wide ocean stretch. I ran to the edge of the cliff, cupping my hands around my mouth.
“I'll wait for you, Jade! So you better come back!” I shouted this as loudly as I could, then turned my back on the small black dot he had turned into, one single tear running down my cheek.

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Patrick stared out the closed car window, watching the different colors flash by quickly. The sun was getting lower as the car went on, making the shadows outside shorten ever so slightly. Although he was staring, he wasn't paying much attention. His mind was on the big move they were making. He wouldn't have minded moving out of the neighborhood- but out of the state? He didn't know what to think. While his four siblings had been out all day saying goodbye to friends, he had been forced to stay inside and help move the large furniture. A light sigh came from him then. He knew why they were moving.
Two years ago, when Patrick was almost 15, he had realized he was gay. He was proud of it and didn't think about what his mom and step-dad would think. One day that year he told them about it. They stood there for a couple of minutes. The next thing he knew, his mom was bursting into tears and his step-dad was yelling. Thats when the abuse started as well. His dad had slapped him. He did it once, then twice. Out of instinct, Patrick had tried to hit him back. This didn't go so well. His step-dad punched him, and he fell back onto the floor, just saving his head when he did. After that he decided never to bring it up again. Then, they might just forget about it.
Patrick closed his eyes lightly. Since then he had tried his best to do whatever he could around the house. He did laundry, cleaned rooms, did dishes. Apparently that wasn't enough, though. They were obviously moving because of him- they hadn't even let him say goodbye to his friends. He would try harder this time. His eyes snapped open when he felt a foot kick him in his calf. He turned his head to his left, looking across to his older sister. She was glaring at him, pulling her foot back to her cross-legged position on the car seat.
“Don't sleep in front of me, Pat. I hate to say it, but you look too perfect,” she told him, glaring still. Patrick's sister was odd. She didn't like him, but she always gave him compliments. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was a girl thing.
“Hey, sis, just let the f*g sleep. We've been driving for two days and he barely got any sleep last night 'cause he was too busy driving while mom slept,” Patrick's brother said from the seat in front of her. Patrick had three brothers, though one of them had moved out long ago and already had a job. The one that hated him the most was his older sister's twin.
Patrick ignored the nickname he seemed to have permanently received from his brother and looked back out the window right as a sign was coming up. 'Welcome to Brownwell'. From the front seat his mom did a little bounce and a small squeak of excitement. It was soon copied by Patrick's little sister in the seat beside his brother. His second- and younger- brother was still sleeping in the seat right in front of him. Once again, Patrick's gaze traveled to the window. He watched as they passed fields, and fields, and fields.
“Hey, mum... are there any buildings in Brownwell?” Patrick asked quietly from the backseat.
“Hush, Patrick. What do you think? We're moving here aren't we?” She replied harshly, frowning instantly.
Patrick blushed in embarrassment. “Yes, ma'am.”
His older brother laughed at him, making Patrick bite his lip to fight back something nasty. He continued to watch the outside from the window. Up ahead, a stop light appeared. Though no cars came, it turned red as they approached. Patrick's eyes widened. Right outside, in the grass, was a group of wolves. There were four of them, all different in fur color. He couldn't exactly pick them out through the window, though. He watched in amazement as one of them lifted their head. Its gaze turned to Patrick as if he could tell that he had been staring. It stared at him without blinking, its dark eyes seeming to drown Patrick. His sister kicked him again, making Patrick reluctantly rip his gaze away. She glared at him again.
“What have you been looking at with such amazement for the past two days, Pat?” she asked in an annoyed tone. She was obviously bored and had been since they got in the car the day before.
Patrick just shrugged and looked back again. But when he did, the wolves were gone, including the one that had stared at him. He sighed as the light turned and the car moved forward once again. His eyes moved up and he began watching the sky as it darkened into night. He could feel the sleepiness inside him, he knew he wanted sleep, and probably needed it, too, but he stayed awake. He had to do whatever he could to help tonight. Then, in the morning, he would put his cooking skills to the test and make breakfast for the house. He just hoped that would be alright with his mom.
A minute or two went by and they finally passed a building. It was a reasonable size, about two times the size of a normal gas station. He made a thoughtful sound when he saw the boards across the windows. He had always liked abandoned buildings. They passed another cluster of buildings then. There were signs on every one, making a small smile creep onto Patrick's face. A library, small movie theatre, and another abandoned building on the right. He looked to the left and saw a small grocery store. His sister was looking as well, probably wondering if they had any makeup there. Patrick assumed they did.
Another couple of minutes went by and a few small houses came up on the left and right. They stopped abruptly, more field splaying out for a few minutes. Then came another building. It was much bigger than the rest. In front there was a sign that said 'Brownwell Academics. Kindergarten to 12th grade'. His sister groaned beside him, muttering something about hating little kids. Patrick smirked lightly, staring the huge building. It was at least twice the size of his school back home. Well, his school back there had only high school, so it made sense. His mom squeaked again as she stared at the school. She patted her husband's arm and pointed, making Patrick's step-dad grunt from the driver's seat.
More houses started to appear. They were a bit bigger than the others had been. A tone of random roads pulled off of the one they were on, cutting through the fields like scissors through paper. All of them were dirt. It seemed that the only one that was paved was this main one. He didn't linger on the thought. A second later they turned to the right, drove for a minute, then turned to the left. Houses were farther away now. All of the front yards merging together into the field and the neighbor's yards. As they drove, the houses became farther and farther apart.
A couple more minutes went by before they could see a house in the distance. It was at the very end of the road- and it was huge. They got there quickly and parked. Patrick's mom looked back at everyone and smiled widely.
“Well, here we are. You're new house. Patrick, please help bring everyone's boxes into the correct rooms. Your brothers and sisters already picked their room. You'll be able to find yours. They already decorated,” she said, her smile widening as she looked at his siblings.
Patrick didn't ask when they had gone all the way here to decorate. He just sat there and nodded to her, then looked out the window at the house. His sister leaned over him and slammed her hand into the back of their sleeping brother's seat. He jumped and turned around, glaring at Patrick. His sister laughed loudly, already in a hidden position.
“What was that for?! Punk!” he swatted at Patrick's head, then quickly got out of the car.
Everyone else followed after him, piling out of the car. His mom opened the trunk quietly and pulled the seat forward so Patrick and his sister could get out. He slid carefully onto the ground, reaching his arms up as he stretched his stiff limbs. When he was done he looked up at the house- yes, up- it was huge!
A wooden staircase went straight up to the tall porch. The porch had a porch swing on each side and a small table holding an ash tray as well. Ignoring the porch for a second, he looked up even further. It looked like the house was three stories. There were multiple windows on the front of the house and it loomed over him so much he almost fell backwards. The coloring was odd to him, though. It was maroon and white and it didn't match the ones they had passed at all. He ignored the thought, quickly moving to the trunk as he noticed his step-father's glare.
While he pulled the three heavy boxes out of the trunk, the rest of his family walked inside the house, already moving to their rooms and settling in. Patrick stacked the boxes one on top of the other, then lifted them, grunting lightly as his still- forming muscles flexed under the weight.
Patrick had an odd build. He was only around 5'10” and there was no sign that he would grow any taller. He had muscle, but it was hidden under his lean body, making him look smaller than he was. His features didn't match any of his siblings- all of them taken from his father. His face was more feminine than he liked, but he lived with it. And although he was a looker- and plenty of girls looked- no one seemed to go near him too often. Either out of shyness or the fact that he was gay, he didn't know.

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Sunrise- a quiet time for the town of Ellewood. Victorian style houses of all colors lined the streets. Sunlight shined against newly cleaned windows. Curtains were drawn back, letting the sun stream into houses and warm kitchens. Men came out of houses, greeting each other and heading to work. Women folded dry laundry on their balcony's waving to each other from next door. Kids rolled over restlessly in their beds, verging on the edge of consciousness. Like a fairytale, the morning of Ellewood started perfectly.
Two particular children, though, stood outside already. They're clothes were changed, their hair and teeth just brushed. They smiled at each other and ran down the street, heading for a large meadow in the distance. They got quite far before they both dropped down on their backs. The children were of opposite genders. The girl had long, golden hair, while the boy had short, brown hair. They both sat up at the same time, watching as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. It lit up the grass like a thousand tiny green flames.
“You'll come back, right?” the girl had turned to look at the boy, her eyes wide.
“Of course I will, silly! I promised! In three years. When we're both ten years old!” the boy smiled widely at her.
The little girl smiled back. Together they watched the sunset rise all the way over the horizon.
“Sasha Marie! Derrick! Come back for breakfast, you two!”
The kids shot up at the sound of their names. When they heard their stomachs growl they laughed together, then started running back across the meadow to their home.
'Only three years,' Sasha Marie thought, smiling to herself.


Sasha opened her eyes reluctantly, glaring at the sun that had awakened her. She sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Once she was more awake she got out of bed and walked to her desk. A clean dress lay folded on it. She sighed and moved it to her bed, not bothering to put it on. Her first trip was always to the bathroom in the mornings.
In the bathroom she sighed. It was exactly as it had been when she was a kid- pastel green walls, a flower shaped light above the shining mirror, sparkling white toilet, and pastel pink rug on half of the floor. She walked up to the mirror and looked in. Her golden-blonde hair was frizzy and stuck out in different directions. Small purple rings hung under her blue eyes. She bit her lip, then picked up a brush and started dragging it through her long hair.
Once she had washed up, she walked down into the kitchen in the dress that had been on her desk. Her mom stood in the kitchen, leaning over a pan of eggs on the stove. The walls- pastel blue in the kitchen- lit up with the sunlight streaming through the large open window next to the door. Sasha's mom looked up when she entered the room.
“Good morning, Sasha. Did you sleep well last night?” her mom asked cheerfully, turning off the stove and scooping the eggs onto three plates. Sasha sat down at the table, mildly surprised to see her dad still sitting there, drinking his coffee.
“Yes, mother,” she replied to her mother, then stared at her dad. His blonde hair was slicked back like usual. His dark blue eyes studied the newspaper on the kitchen table. “Do you have a day off work today?”
Her father looked up, smiling with amusement.
“Of course, not. Its your birthday, Sasha. Of course I'm here this morning,” his voice matched his amused look. Sasha's eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh my gosh! I completely forgot! Can I go out now? I promised some friends I'd go shopping with them for tonight's ball,” she smiled with excitement. Her father laughed.
“Sure thing, kid. Eat your breakfast first, then go on out with them,” he smiled kindly and put a big box on the kitchen table. “Don't forget this, though. I think you might like it.”
Sasha quickly ate the eggs her mother put in front of her, then opened the box slowly. Inside was a small white piece of paper. Silver letters decorated one side. She read them carefully.
Come visit again! - Pretty Things
Gasping loudly, Sasha tore the tissue out of the box. A blue dress- matching her eyes perfectly, sat folded in the box. She squealed loudly, jumping up and giving her father a giant squeeze. Pretty things was one of the most expensive stores in town. Ball gowns galore- a girl's dream, really. She laughed loudly, then kissed her mom's cheek, called goodbye, and ran out of the house. She held her skirts up lightly, half running to her friends house a few houses over.
The door opened before she got close enough to walk and her friend ran out and gave her a large hug. Sasha laughed and hugged her back, letting her green dress fall from her hands.
“Oh, Alice! You won't believe what my father got me!” she squealed to her friend- apparently named Alice. “A dress from Pretty Things! And it matches my eyes perfectly! Its the most beautiful thing you have ever seen!” she cried out before Alice could answer.
Alice squealed with her and they both went inside and out of the heat of summer. Two more girls sat smiling widely inside. They were around the kitchen table, staring at Sasha as she admired the cake obviously made by Alice's father, who was a baker. Three more boxes sat on the table waiting for her to open. She sat down quickly as one of her friends slid a blue box towards her. A small card sat on top.
'Happy birth day, Sasha! Your friend, Jane.' Sasha smiled up at Jane, her blue eyes shining with happiness. The present openings went by quickly for the girls, all of their minds on shopping for themselves. Sasha received a beautiful necklace. It was a silver chain with a small diamond on the end. But it wasn't just any diamond, it was in the shape of a small bird in flight.

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Sundiata... he was a great man. He dedicated his whole life to creating an army. If you didn't know already, I was in that army. I don't know how he did. He was a great leader and our army was strong. If I could see him once, just once more, I would be a happy man.
I wasn't skilled when I joined his army. In fact, I had very little skill in anything except singing. When I joined his army, I was joining it to be entertainment, not to help Sundiata. But he was persistent, wanting so badly to overthrow the king that had exiled him. I couldn't help it. I started to learn how to fight with him, with other men, even with trees. He was my mentor for awhile. A couple months before the army was complete... he grew distant.
He knew what was going to happen if we lost. He also knew what would happen if we won. I know the men here were putting their lives out for Sundiata. All he was was an exiled guy. Thats what some people said. But its not true. Sundiata was a leader. And a great one at that. He was a skilled fighter and was motivated enough to get us ready.
The day before we attacked was great. We weren't tense at all. Just hours before dinner Sundiata had said a great speech. He motivated us and made us completely at ease. I was excited for his reign to come. We all had dinner around a fire. I sang, we laughed, and some people even juggled or told jokes. It was as if the we were never going to die. But, of course, that wasn't possible. We all knew we would lose some of us.
So we let the night last. We let the night drag on as much as we could. By the time we went to bed, we were all worn out and full of food. Our strength built up in the night, it seemed. When we woke up hardly anyone spoke. A couple greetings of the morning, a few words from Sundiata, then we set off.
Looking around me, everyone looked bigger. One of the men I had become friends with stood next to me, a light frown on his face. Though he usually looked pretty big, that day his muscles looked more profound, his head looked higher up in the sky than usual, and even his large hands, gripping a weapon tightly, seemed much larger. I didn't know what it was- was it the thought of war going to my head? Or the greatly motivating Sundiata that made us stronger on the inside and out? I didn't know.
I didn't have much time to think about it, either. We soon made it to our destination. The fight had started. All that ran through my head during the fight was 'for Sundiata. My mentor, a great friend, and the perfect leader.' I watched as men fell around me. Some were men I knew, some were the enemy, and some, sadly, were innocent civilians.
When it was all over I learned one thing- the king had fled. We had won. We won the fight and got the thrown for Sundiata. Our survivors, many of us thankfully, smiled at each other and gathered together. We talked quietly, the fight had thrown the place into silence. Some people talked about seeing their loved ones, some talked about the fight, some sympathized the dead, and me, well, I just thought. My friend came up to me a minute later, sweat dripped down every part of him showing. Blood was splattered on his clothes, though that was to be expected.
I smiled at him and he gave me a large smile back. He looked in one piece, beside a couple cuts and scratches. I guessed he hadn't been in a large pack of enemy. Unlike some men, who had large gashes in their bodies, which they plainly ignored. Me and my friend didn't say anything to each other. We just looked at the mass of surviving men and thought.
Thinking seemed like the only thing I did now-a-days. Before I joined Sundiata's army I had been a loud speaker. I would always say what was on my mind no matter how people reacted. Right then, right there, I began to sing. I sang a song of freedom, a song of joy, a song of sadness. Men looked at me, their conversation falling. I sang louder, hoping everyone would hear.
My friend joined in, his deep voice added well to the melody. People started coming towards us, their eyes wide. They weren't in any army, they were just civilians. Some more men joined. It was a song that every little kid knew. It was about freedom and its rights, it was about love and its complicated passage, and it was about death and remembering them.
The song grew louder and louder, then, suddenly, we stopped. All at the same time we stopped singing. Sundiata was coming through the crowd, frowning in a way we never thought he could. He looked around, then caught my eye. Then something amazing happened.
Sundiata smiled. He smiled so wide, and so happily, that some people started crying. He thanked me, he thanked his army, he thanked the dead, and finally, he thanked the civilians. More people started crying, but most of us cheered. I almost cried myself, but held it in as Sundiata came up to me. He rested a hand on my shoulder, looked straight into my eyes, and said something I will never forget.

“Your songs bring freedom, your songs bring joy, and your song- the song of life- brought me leadership. I will always remember you.”

Author's Note

I know it's long, but I felt it was neccessary to keep them in the same piece. They're all from some time last year. If any of them seem interesting let me know and I'll try and continue it.

Reviews

[StarNinja]

Holy crap. This is really good. You've got talent! You should definitely continue writing all of these! Aside from a few grammar things all of these were pretty solid.
A+