Ding dong!

Who the hell would be visiting me?

Ding dong!

Obviously, an impatient person.

Ding dong!

I should probably answer it.

Ding dong, ding dong!

"I'm coming!" I yelled as loudly as I could. I got up out of my rocker with my creaking joints making their displeasure known.

Damn joints.

I straitened my spine and nearly yelped when it popped.

Damn back.

I shuffled forward a few steps and grabbed my walker. This walker just degraded me. By using it, I was screaming, 'Yeah, that's right! I'm elderly! I can't even walk on my own! I'm as helpless as a child! Woo!'

I despise my walker, as you can tell. I also despise being old. Basically, I despise a lot of things. Like people, for example. I'm not the feelings type of guy.

I grumbled as I made my way over to my large front door. I scowled when I saw it was pouring rain out there. This person better be important or have something important to say.

I unlocked the door with a tiny click and opened my door.

And, GUESS WHAT?

Yeah, there was no one there.

DAMN KIDS.

This is why I hate people.

I shuffled back a few steps so I could close the door, when something caught my eye. There was something on my doormat. A…..book?

The cover was worn leather and majorly dusty. It was about the size of a text book and almost as thick as one. Who could have left this here?

I bent down and picked up the book, grunting with the effort. Brushing away some of the dust, I discovered the title.

The Flock's Photo Album.

What the crap? Who are they? Why did I end up with it?

I looked around again, trying to peer through the rain, waiting to see someone with a camera and a smile that had 'Gotcha' written all over it. But no one laughed. No one came forward.

So, I did what any curious person would do. I brought it inside, sat down on my rocker, and opened it. The first page was a picture of what looked like two 5 year-old kids holding hands.

A girl and a boy.

Normal.

Except they were in small cages and had wings protruding from their back. Which, of course, really startled me.

They looked happy though, considering the situation they were in. The girl's face was glowing as she smiled at the dark boy, showing off a set of dimples, and the boy was grinning at the girl, too.

You could just tell that they were friends.

Sad thing is, I don't ever remember having a girl as a friend when I was little. Nor do I remember ever being locked in a dog crate and having wings. Actually, I don't remember any of my childhood thanks to a horrible concussion I had when I was 14.

But still, you'd think a guy would remember a thing as important as this.

Yeah, that boy in the picture is me, Nick Watterson.

Yeah, I had inspiration slap me in the face today.

It hurt.

Hope you liked the first chapter! Pleaseth Revieweth :D

"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice; It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be acheived."

-Live