The Farr Emergence

Prologue

The fifteen year old silhouette sitting on the windowsill was considering his life up until that point. Your typical sob story, he thought to himself. The life he lived now was not worth living, in his opinion. Dead parents, shitty state homes and care takers, poor grades and incessant fighting. Nobody cared about him. So, by now, he'd already made up his mind about it. And with no one awake in the dead of night to stop him, to try to talk him out of it, to take him away sedated in cuffs to a cell, now was as good a time as any to do it. Holding the underside of the open window like a pull up bar, he hoisted his ass further out on the ledge, and with a deep breath, braced himself – and fell less than a second before smashing clumsily into the lame excuse for a shrub below, tumbling onto the grass and dirt between the six foot wooden fence and the wall of the two story state home. He picked himself up and checked the backpack strapped to his back, feeling for any obvious damage. Satisfied that there wasn't any, he wasted no time in hopping the fence, and with that, he began a new life.

A life worth living.