A small boy sat cross- legged in the sand in the deep onyx of the night. Although practically every child went to the park during the day, this crimson haired boy enjoyed the stars above him instead. The blazing sun that Sunagakure was well renowned for- was actually disliked by this small boy, like many other stuff. He stroked the grains tenderly within his finger tips, feeling each granule faintly stir simultaneously with every beat that resounded inside his chest. Suddenly a frown appeared, pulling the corners of his thin lips downward abruptly. Roughly with a forced grasp, a handful of the tan coloured sand was thrown aside. A small mumble muttered out of the fair child. An odd feeling ricocheted through him, tingles sprung up his spine, as though small needles were jabbing at him one by one.
Each time Gaara threw away a handful of the sand he had gotten the same feeling. The odd occurrence was discovered several nights ago and was repeated since. The feeling was foreign, obviously. Never had the boy felt such an abnormal sense towards the element of sand before. It was as though it was almost moving with the will of the boy himself.
He sighed and stood up. Gaara may be only five, but the boy walked everywhere by himself. Well, it wasn't like he was afraid of others, people were more afraid of him. 'Different', was what his elder sister, Temari, had once said. She, as well as his other elder sibling- Kankuro, were afraid of him. It was obvious as to why.
He, a mere five year old child, was known as a monster. Although the reason was all so obvious to Gaara, there still felt like there was more, more of his past that he did not know of. More that citizens sneered at, and the reasons behind it. He had once tried to ask his sister with eyes large as dishes tinted with a jade. She had just opened her mouth as though she were a guppy, for quite some time than shook her head and hastily spat out that she knew nothing. Then, at the time of the raw age of three, the boy had accepted her answer and moved on.
Yes, he was indeed different, a monster at that.
Gaara had wings. Currently small and delicate. Those similar to that of a chicken, but obviously on a different sort of scale. Red tinges mixed with cream and black speckles along the tuffs of feathers. They were ugly and useless. Gaara tried, almost every night, to get rid of them. Snipping and slicing at them, with any sharp object he came across. But they eventually grew back, although seemingly stronger than ever. In one instance they only took the hours of a night for them to sprout right back out. Frustrated, the boy soon gave up and hid the wings instead under all his clothing- wraps and loose clothing that were also disguised as the helpful alternative for protection against the desiccated environment of the desert.
However through and through with the different attempts of trying to hide the wings, the citizens had either already had previously seen them or heard the rumours that continuously circled the city. They would stare and point. Even hit, scream and swear with words of hatred. Words that the boy didn't even understood at that time and place. He was a monster. He was a demon.
Sunagakure was his home however, where he was born and brought up.
"A shit and dull life that is…" Gaara murmured.
He lived along side his elder siblings in an abandoned building. They had claimed it several years ago when Temari, himself and Kankuro were kicked out of their previous house. Their father had disappeared out of the blue and the three children were forced out of the house once the elders realised they couldn't pay the funds from the bills that circled the once grand building. So they embarked on a journey to find another, hence being successful one eventful day.
Gaara swiftly leapt up onto a random roof, and begun jumping from building to building. He landed on a cracked ledge that led towards the house the trio claimed. It was made of the traditional hardened sand of the village, yet was quite crammed up in size and hidden away in the midst of Sunagakure. Opening the heavy door with a scrape, he poked his head between the small gap. The senses of the redheads' were several times better than anyone he ever knew of, he had noticed this several years ago. This was to his advantage and allowed him incredible passage to sneak around Suna soundlessly. Gaara soon realised by doing this he avoided the crowds, as well as the regular beatings. No one was about so he quickly slipped into the building and up the stairs toward his bedroom.
His so called bedroom was the attic. It was small and filthy with dust. All that furnished the area was a beaten up futon, an ancient but small cupboard in the corner and a suspended light bulb that hung from the roof. It wasn't much, but that's all Gaara really needed. But of what he wanted, he decided to steal.