A/N: Okay. This was kind of just a spur of the moment thing, but I liked where it was going so I decided to continue it. The prologue comes in two parts. They are completely unrelated to each other, sort of. Constructive criticism woul be lovely and much appreciated. Any advice you want to give me go ahead, just don't bash my work. Alright, then.

Disclaimer: Yeah, anything you recognize, I don't own.

Drift Away

Prologue Part One

A black bird soared majestically in the sky. Its wings were spread wide as it drifted about the cloudless heavens, circling about with no fixed direction.

Its black coat of feathers stood out in the sea of vivid blue.

The bird seemed to float on forever, circling in and out without a care in the world. It flapped it wings and began soaring in the direction of a paned window. It sailed seamlessly, like gliding across water, in one swift motion.

The bird hung suspended in the air in front of the window, peering in to the contained world inside the house. People were chatting merrily, laughing amiably. A single girl sat on a set of stairs, her head in her hands, and looking rather distressed. Upon seeing a wisp of black from the bird's feathers, she jerked her head up, and stared fixedly on the bird.

The girl rose slowly and glided as effortless as the bird towards the window. Stopping inches away, she put her finger tips against the window, ignoring the people around her looking questioningly in her direction. Few seconds passed between the bird and the girl, both perched in their positions.

With a swift move, the bird fluttered its wings, and drifted away—leaving the girl standing motionless, her fingers still lightly touching the window.

As she watched the bird drift away she couldn't help but wish she were the bird, free to sail through the open skies, free to drift away from a life she never wanted.

Prologue Part Two

Outside a large windowpane, there is a slight ledge fashioned into a small balcony, just big enough to capacitate a petite girl. On particular nights when the notion of sleep is only a distant thought, a willowy girl of sixteen makes use of this balcony—reveling in her good fortune to be blessed with such a place.

-

Gently perching open her window as to make as little sound as possible, a lissome girl slithered through the window trying to make it to the other side without any quandaries along the way. Her silk nightgown blew in the wind, gently brushing against her skin. Blonde hair whipped around her face. She tried disastrously and unsuccessfully to control it. Giving up, she settled herself down so her legs dangle off the diminutive edge of the balcony dangerously.

The chilly night air was unexpected, and as she hugged herself to salvage some of her body heat she found herself wishing she had brought a jacket out with her. Beside her a marble journal lay, filled with words of her past. She intertwined her pen through her fingers, moving it swiftly from finger to finger, slightly unconscious of her actions.

Normally, her pen would be fervently writing, permanently attached to the notebook, rapidly jotting down anything worth mentioning. When she had felt she adequately depicted what she wanted, she would place the note book down—as a way to let the words seep into the pages. In a few short seconds the notebook would be up to her face and she would fixedly read over what had just been blank white pages.

On this particular night, the urge that usually filled her to begin to write, that itch in her finger tips, seemed to have disappeared altogether. There were just too many thoughts filtering through her mind to write them all down.

She brought her knees to her chest and hugged herself, only letting a single tear escape her eyes. It slid down her check and past her chin. She felt alone, isolated in her little corner of the universe—completely dissociated from everyone.

She had put up a shield a long time ago—a strong fortress that blocked out anyone who endeavor to infiltrate it. She had told herself she needed no one—people only brought pain. As soon as you made a connection with someone they were ripped out from under you, tearing you to pieces in the midst. She'd stopped caring a long time ago, stopped feeling.

Now only numbness filled her world, except for the journal. When she had convinced herself that feeling nothing would be better than feeling too much she hadn't realized. She'd never know the kind of path it would lead her down.

The girl stared blankly out into the large expanse of the night. Tiny stars shimmered against the inky black canvas. The moon was luminous—spreading slight rays of sliver light about the earth. They all seemed so far away now—isolated in their own little corner of the universe.

A/N: Reviews are nice. )