I don't own any of Michael Grant's lovely characters...If I did I wouldn't be posting here. :)

This will be somewhere around like six chapters, if I decide to finish it. I would love to know what you think. Enjoy.

Orc's Light

RainWeptSoul

Orc liked the light. It was pretty, the way that the girl molded it in her hands. It was like a delicate snow globe, Orc didn't want it to stop. Who was the girl? Orc didn't know, his memory wasn't very good. He was drunk. Orc knew he had to stop the girl. It was against the powerful, tall boy's rules for her to do magic. She had to be stopped. But Orc liked the light. Where was Howard? Howard would know what to do; Howard always knew what to do. Orc could hear Howard now. The thin boy's voice was as clear in his head as if he'd been there. "Don't be a prat." Howard would say. "Do it, you have to if you want to drink." But Orc didn't want to do it. Orc liked the light.

It felt surreal the way Orc moved. He clomped along barely there, bickering with the Howard who wasn't present. Charles Merriman never even remembered swinging the aluminum bat, but he would never forget the sound it made as it impacted with the girl's skull. Her scream scared him. The sound of metal against bone still ricocheted inside poor Orc's ears. Fat, wet tears dribbled down the giant boy's still human cheeks, as he ran off, the sound of his feet as they hit the concrete echoed all down the alley way. Bette crawled, leaving a trail of blood in her midst. No one dared help her in fear they would receive the same treatment.

Gasps, heavy breathing, continuing like clock-work. The only intervals were when Orc let loose a pained sob as if he'd been the one hit upside the head. He sheltered himself between the safeties of two houses; their looming structures cast dramatic shadows down onto him leaving only the right side of his face illuminated. Skin. Orc had never been sure if he believed in God, or anything, but he prayed to everyone he could think of, begging, begging for forgiveness, for mercy, and for death.

"Orc? Orc is that you?" The prepubescent voice of Howard chimed. "Man, Orc, are you there?" Orc only issued a sorrowful grunt in response to his best friend. "Come on Orc. Hey, dude what's wrong?" Orc tried to speak but all that came out was a stifled syllable overcome by a shaking solo of sobs. His typically strong face representing that of a child, snot ran down his cheeks combining with the salty droplets of tears and sweat. It was all Howard could do to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around the heaving, much bigger, boy. But that would be too far, Orc may be his best friend, but physical contact was much to intimate a gesture for the pair of bullies. "Hey man, it's ok, I'm sure it is. Whatever it is." A very slurred "no," was all that Orc could muster between the body wrenching sobs that consumed him. "Hey! Orc, I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened." Howard yelled slightly too harshly out of bitter frustration. Orc only sobbed more in response, retreating into the depths of the corner.

The air was tense with the awkwardness of the situation. Howard watched as Orc fumbled with a beer can, his large hands shook so heavily that he couldn't get a grasp on the pop top long enough to open it. Orc let loose a grunt of frustration before heaving the can with what seemed to be inhuman strength. Howard barely leaped out of the way before the can smashed into the wall behind, where Howard's head had previously been. Howard stooped down tenderly removing the can from a pile of garbage before dusting it off on his weathered jeans. He popped the top and held the can out to Orc. "Here," his voice unwavering. Orc pushed the can aside, but Howard persistently held it out until his arm shook from the strain. "I'm sorry, Orc, I didn't mean it, just take the freaking can." Orc outstretched his own arm removing the can of booze, almost daintily, from Howard's weakening grasp. He chugged it, stopping only to offer the last few drops to his friend. "No man, right now I think only one of us can afford to be drunk." Those last few drops would later ooze out, seeping in to the flaws of the cement, but never meeting the lips of a human mouth.

Well that was that. I had a lot of fun writing it. Do you think I should countinue with chapter two?