10Ehh, I figured I might as well update this chapter before the day ends. Llama Llama Mer!
Ever woken up with something bothering you, and reached out to slap it away, only to hit something immensely painful? Not a very good way to start the day right? My case was very similar.
I was in that state, between consciousness and unconsciousness, when suddenly; I could feel myself being moved. Dragged, to be more accurate. At first, my brain was: WTF? Then, it kicked into: Die (_) Die!
Immediately, my eyes snapped open and my legs kicked out. The hands under my arms disappeared and I crashed down onto the floor, my head aching from the previous fall.
"Oomph" I said as my breath came out in a huff. Quickly, I jumped into a standing position, but started to sway. Black spots covered my vision as the blood ran out of my brain. My hands flew up as I shook my head, stumbling a bit.
"You Ok?" a voice asked.
I looked up, still clutching my head. A boy was standing in front of me. Correction: a birdkid was standing in front of me, staring at me with wide amused eyes. He was wearing the same outfit I was, a ratty gray shirt and baggy sweats. His hair was really dark and long, but cut in a way that looked good. He was pale, and eyes that were a weird sort of color, amber and green. What was it called? Hazel?
"Yeah" I replied, straightening up. "Who are you?"
He looked at me carefully, before answering.
"Um, the Whitecoats call me Experiment 10, but I call myself Art." He said shrugging. "You?"
"I'm Experiment 15…but I don't have a name yet." I said slowly.
He looked taken aback
"You don't have a name?" he-Art- asked, surprised.
I shook my head slowly, taking in my surroundings.
The white room was empty, except for me, Art, a small foot long window. I walked over to it and peered out.
Our room seemed to be on the third story of the building, overlooking some kind of courtyard, filled with Erasers. They were chasing something, a human like figure.
I turned away not wanting to see. Art had sat down in a corner, his wings pulled around him, staring at me. I walked over and sat down in front of him, appraising his wings. They were a warm chocolate brown, the secondary feathers lighter, with some grey spots flecked onto them, like silver.
He studied me apprehensively, as if not knowing whether to trust me or not.
"So, what are you?" he asked casually, staring at a place to my right.
I spread my wings wide as an answer. Art's eyes widened as he noticed my wings.
"You're Avian?" He asked, amazed.
"Yep." I nodded, flaunting my wings a little.
Art smiled gleefully. "I've never seen another Avian before," he said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I've only seen reptile crosses, and cat crosses. They either die or they get taken by Erasers." He looked a little miserable at the thought, but then brightened up. "But since I lasted for so long, maybe you will too!"
"So, what are we, invincible?" I asked teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. It worked.
He laughed, but with an edge. "No, we just last longer."
"So what are we doing here?" I asked, looking around.
"Well, this is like another Storage Room, one where they keep all the ones that they don't have cages for anymore. I've been here my whole life." He shrugged again.
At that moment, the door started to slide open. Art tensed up, sitting on his heels. I rolled to my knees and watched the door. Two Whitecoats walked in. They had food trays, quickly set them on the floor, and were out by the next second.
Art and I looked at the food, then at each other. At the same time, we both scrambled up and launched at the food.
The tray had a small portion of watery gravy with a small heap of mashed potatoes, a small bowl of thin soup and hard bread, with a bottle of water. We both wolfed it down hungrily, mine was gone in seconds. I was hungrier than I thought. I haven't eaten in three days. Jerks.
Art had eaten his portion more slowly, saved the bread in his pocket, and only drank half the water. Smart.
He threw the empty tray at the door, picked up his bottle, and went back to his corner.
Feeling more hungry than before the food, I set the tray aside and followed him. I sat down; knees to my chest, beside his relaxed form and asked, "So, Art,"
He turned to look at me, eyebrows raised in question. I continued.
"How did you get your name anyway?" I asked, stretching my legs out in front of me, staring at my ripped shoes.
He laughed and drew his wings around himself again. "Why? Are you planning to name yourself?"
I looked at him. "Well, yes, but I want to know how you got yours."I replied, drawing my wings around me too and fingering the white feathers.
"Well, I have magic powers" he said in a spooky voice. That immediately caught my attention.
"Really? What kind of powers?"
"I named myself because of my power, and to be perfectly honest, it's pretty cool." He said, glancing sideways at me.
"What, you can paint Picasso or something? Is that why your name is Art?" I asked seriously.
He laughed, "No, but I can draw."
"That's your power? You can draw?" I said, skeptically. No way was that a real power. He must be playing with me.
Art chuckled again. "No, I can draw the future."
Wow, Art is Picasso! Well, anyway, who has heard Let The Flames Begin by Paramore? If you haven't, go listen to it. REVIEW! Come on, I'm shooting for at least 5 reviews. Please?