Fan Fiction ❯ The Seven Skies Volume 1:Sky of Fire ❯ Zero ( Prologue )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A world so drab, so orderly
That chaos must rest beneath the surface
In the realm of myth eternal
Where dragons and wizards and genies walk the earth
And all is possible
But such could not remain for long
And myth shall become reality, and reality shall become myth
And into it all shall be thrust
Six children and a beast, blessed at birth
Must lead a people who were never born

The first, a boy of construct culture
Angry at the invisible, unbreakable walls
Reaches out and finds fire
Fire in his heart, fire all around him
Has felt his own blood, drank it, savoured it
Now steps into a world
Where all conceptions of the mind
Are shown, in brutal detail
Shadows of the future, shadows of the past
Cast by an eternal flame

Jack snapped out of the trance-like state suddenly, looking around feverishly for a small moment. What had happened? He remembered looking ahead, the world appearing in reds and oranges, and reciting words that came into his mind and went straight through his mouth. Some sort of poetry? He remembered birth...and fire... and that was about it.

He shook his head. He remembered that he was in the middle of his history midterm-- a test he hadn't studied for, in a class he had no interest in. Oh well. He would have to put some effort into it, if only to secure a passing grade-- not that he gave a damn about school any more, but it pleased the 'rents, and he wasn't quite ready to move out at age fifteen.

Jack looked down at the page currently open. He had sailed through the multiple choice questions, and was now on to the hard part. The title of the sheet below him was Essay Questions.

The first question read: 1. Read the attached article "When is Death Justified?" by Presly Morset. Based on Morset's definition and what we've learned in class, do you believe Vietnam was a "just war"? Do you believe that human lives are an acceptable price for a goal? Be sure to give at least three reasons to support your thesis. This answer should be 250-350 words long, and should be written in proper essay form.

Jack wrote, in large letters over the space, Yes.

The black-haired teenage boy sighed and tapped his pen against the desk, mostly for the purpose of annoying his neighbour. He glanced out the window. He saw his angular and little-washed face, which most people's eyes ran right off of to his almost glowing orange eyes. His clothes were typical: mostly plain or with some generic decal, though at times he would wear the "punk-goth standard".

He looked away from his own reflection and back down at his paper. Seven minutes left. This was either going to be really long, or really short.

* * *

Jack finished scarfing down his dinner-- Shake 'n' Bake chicken with assorted canned sides-- and immediately left the table. "I'm going out now, 'kay guys? I should be home by ten." His mom and dad nodded mutely. They were used to this by now.

Jack went through the small house's front door, skipped the stairs by jumping over the porch railing, and calmly (even arrogantly) strode out. Twilight cast across the middle-class neighbourhood. Perishing flower gardens presided over yards of gravel and two-story houses. Jack really didn't like his neighbourhood that much.

Almost by instinct, Jack wound up at a Krispy Kremes two blocks away. A couple of his friends sat in the parking lot, chilling out and doing nothing in particular.

"Hi guys," Jack said, sitting to the left of them.

"Hey, w'sup?" Steve asked. Steve was from the suburbs, and one of Jack's closer friends. It seemed as though he almost felt he had something to prove, and was known to cuss a lot.

"Not much, not much," Jack said descriptively.

"Hey," Jeff, better known by his nickname Fenix (from an ill-fated Arizona road trip), said. Fenix acted like a complete stoner, though Jack had rarely actually seen him doing drugs. He wondered if it was an act, or if he was just permanently baked.

The three just sat there for a minute or two. Then, Jack broke the silence. "So Steve. How goes the progress on that chick?"

"Stephanie?" Steve asked. "I thought it was going fine, but then those bitches got in the way and then she was all on me about those chicks I fucked a long time ago, one of which happens to be said bitches, so all the shit just hit the fan and I'm hoping she'll forget about it and give me a sympathy shag but you never know-"

Jack had long since stopped listening to what Steve said past the first two sentences. Steve had countered that technique by speaking in one run-on sentence. Jack leaned back against the wall, not really paying any attention to Steve's recollection.

"Harsh, man," Fenix analysed.

Jack nodded in mock sympathy, only to have something light and metallic bounce off his head. He stood up, casting the beer can to the ground. "Who the hell threw that?"

"Let it go," Fenix advised, but it was in vain. Within seconds, Jack had determined where the offending piece of litter had come from and was in it's wielder's face.

"You got a problem?" the other guy said. He was short and black, wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Two nearly identical thugs stood at his side.

"Yeah," Jack snarled. "Watch where you're throwing your crap.'

Jack expected the blow, though maybe not so soon, and retaliated with a kick to the groin area. The other guy blocked it, allowing his fist (did he see a glint of metal there?) to connect with Jack's face, sending the straw-haired boy to the ground. His nose burst open, confirming his suspicion, as Fenix and Steve sprang up to join the fight.

The two other man joined in as well, and began generally abusing Jack. Fenix and Steve, being unarmed, did the best they could but were quickly put out by the pair of brutes. Jack received repeated kicks to the stomach, and hits in the face with the hooded guy's brass knuckles. A few painful minutes later, it was all over, and there was only blood and the ringing laughter of the opposition.

* * *

Jack held his bruised stomach as it began to empty it's contents into the toilet bowl. His mother was still shrieking about something, probably regarding him, but after ten minutes it had become indiscernible. Oh well. In trouble with the old hag again. Hardly surprised me.

What's wrong with me, he wondered, turning over in the fetal position. This allowed a small bit of vomit to roll out of his cheek and onto the white tile floor, but who cared? He'd probably be cleaning it up any ways. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't asked to be beat up, and how was he supposed to know the kid had brasses? Besides, he wasn't really that hurt--he had been in worse shape, at least.

Now firmly angry at his parents, Jack stormed to his room (where he would likely spend the majority of the next two weeks) and threw himself down on his bed. Stupid parents. They expected him to be perfect, or at least their fucked up yuppie definition of it.

His head steaming, he didn't get to sleep for at least another hour.

* * *

Jack awoke, the shrieking beeps managing to pierce his barrier of sloth. What...his alarm clock? No, it was too early for another day of school. Testing his denial, he smacked his bedside clock, but it did not stop the shreik-like noises. Then what...

Fire. All of a sudden he saw the bright light down the hallway, heard the crackling of a campfire, smelt the charcoally smoke, and felt the overwhelming heat around him. Acting on years of well-instilled instinct, Jack rolled out of his bed and dropped to the ground. For some reason, his door was open tonight (it wasn't usually.) That could be his saving grace or his doom.

Jack crawled along, noticing he wasn't making much progress. The fire seemed to have originated in the guest room, but was spreading rapidly. It was strange how fast Jack's mind adapted to the situation, almost without question. Jack reached the stairs, and took in a deep breath, then coughed out some smoke again. Just another thirty feet or so to go, and he'd be out of the house and safe. He didn't think of his parents.

He rolled into a standing position and began to sprint downstairs. The pain in his stomach was still bothering him, and he couldn't see through the smoke. Thus, it came as a complete surprise when something caught his foot, sending him spiralling down to the landing with a thud.

There was a small noise, like an explosion, and Jack felt the heat much closer now. Somehow, without looking, he knew that fire now blocked his way. No problem. What did they always tell you to do in those stupid safety videos? Alternate exit. Right. He could probably bust through his window and climb down from there, though it would be a stretch.

He began to crawl back up the stairs, but stopped. The flames had spread over the hall carpet, and now blocked access to his room. Panicky, he knew that he was now trapped. The shrill sounds of the smoke detectors broke up any trace of thought. How could he get out? The fire would spread, and he would be caught in the middle and burnt! Maybe if the fire-fighters arrived in time... no, the volunteer fire-fighters were notoriously unreliable and probably drunk again. "Crap..." he muttered under his breath.

Taking in a breath of smoke, he decided to give it a try. With a cry, he charged and attempted to leap over the flames. He landed squat inside them. For a second he burned, and then Jack was gone.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well. My first original series. Though I aspire to be a professional author one day, and thus are wary of putting original work on the web, I figure it's a good way to get critique on my work (Besides, who'd want to publish this?) This prologue is really atypical for the story, it's mainly just to develop Jack's character.

Sorry if this chapter is a bit rough around the edges. Also, I tried to keep this as slang-light as possible. As it is, I probably still gaffed it up, as I am a complete and total geek. 'Night.