"Dear diary,
This is the first time I ever write something like this. Mr. Kirkland said it is good document. Sorry if I do wrong. Let me introduce myself to you Mr. Diary, my name is Fèng, as in Fènghuáng. Isn't that cool? I was born in Hong Kong and lived in small apartment there with my Father, mother, and older brother. I live now in Ottawa Canada. Father and mother passed away, and my brother and I were still very young, they wouldn't let him take care of me. I was adopted. I haven't seen him for very long time, and even though sometimes he was really mean and pushy I really liked him and he took as best care for me as he could. He lives in great big Beijing, and my adopted father Mr. Kirkland who now I live with lives in Ottawa. I am 12 years old and Mr. Kirkland has 2 son that live with. Matthew and Alfred. Matthew had a different father. I like Matthew lot because he very quiet and smart. Matthew and Alfred are both 14. I don't meet Matthew's father. They both are nice to me because my English isn't perfect. I write better than speaking.
Mr. Kirkland always seems sad that I don't call him Arthur or dad, but I don't see why I could call him that. I call my brother Yào-gē, that is all affection I say.
School here is very different. It is all play it seems like, I feel often left out because I am new and akward (spell?).
The weather is so cold, not like home. Right now it is only 5 Celsius. At home it is 19 Celcius. I want to jump into Hong Kong bay and have big brother pull me out and scold me. I miss the festival and fireworks and the food. –"
For the moment, the thick leather bound book is shut gently; dusty looking blond hair slips messily around a pale forehead. They frame emerald orbs which stare longingly up at a white ceiling. His hand, long fingers stroke the worn cover. The date on that page read November 30th, 1994. Arthur Kirkland couldn't help but take a trip down memory lane as he thinks about that very first page. Feng, his little Feng had neat handwriting for being foreign. That hound of a big brother was smart to teach him English from such a young age. That Yao hated him with a passion right now.
The book is revisited; crisp darkened and sometimes wrinkled pages were flipped open. The entry was at random. Arthur once more getting a peek into his sons life, he felt odd doing this without Feng's permission. Permission? Did he really need that now…?
"Dear diary,
I'm very distressed that we had again to move. I'm sorry to not have written for a few weeks now, is it? Time flew. This school that they have me in is so small, this whole town is—I don't know what possessed that man. Food poisoning. One day over breakfast Mr. Kirkland says to us, "well boys, we're moving." And that was that.
Whitehorse is devilish. It's cold, it's cold and it's hardly fall—this is worse than Ontario. He couldn't pick a better capitol? I'm so not into this.
I feel more ostracized here for sure, I mean, in Ottawa it was different because it was such a bigger place. I had friends at least. But here I feel like I cannot get hand or foot in any threshold.
Often times I am teased and Matthew can only do so much. Alfred is never found anymore. Grade 9 is a joke, but I can't imagine Grade 11 any better judging by Alfred's behavior. He has many friends and plays on the basketball team. He always is with them, what would he say if I told him his two best friends tormented me?
Matthew has a sport also. Mountain biking? It's odd, I've never seen a secondary school offer such a thing. I like Matthew's friends though I don't speak often with them—he is wise to hardly bring them to the house. Mr. Kirkland surely will scare them off.
Even though Mr. Kirkland moved us so far away, I don't blame not making friends easily on him. I like him a lot, I can do math and speak well. He took me to England once while Alfred and Matthew stayed in Quebec with Matthew's father. Wrong direction in my opinion, but it did open my eyes. No regrets. I liked it there. –"
Arthur stopped reading there and noted the date again, September of 1997. Feng was 15. He hadn't changed much as a child to a young man except that he had a bit better grammar. He also cut his hair to fit in more as when he was young he wore it like his brother. Started Grade 9 he snipped it, it was a messy but fitting appearance. Feng didn't act it, but he had such a wild heart. Many needs hidden that he never had satisfied.
Perhaps the most interesting and appalling part of Feng was his… way of demonstrating emotion-or lack there-of. Feng didn't talk a lot, he didn't smile a lot, nor did he frown. What Alfred and Matthew fondly called serene, others called arrogant, stuck up, cold. People just couldn't understand him.
"Hey! Leon!"
Feng turns at his adopted nick name, the only ones that used it tended to be the other kids and teachers. Not that Feng was too hard to say, Feng figured they were just trying to make him more like them. He felt like it wasn't working… What a shame.
"Yo," He raises his hand briefly in greeting, though obviously very guarded. This was the giant Ivan-never out right tormented by him, but he was on the basketball team yet not exactly friends with Alfred. It was like the huge dude was in limbo. Sometimes he said a few odd teases, and other times simply sent him a look in the hallways; god he was weird. Ivan is a rather daunting man to stand closely infront of, it's something Feng can't help but think as he cranes his neck back to look at a childishly grinning face. Ivan is in Grade 12, so it was odd for him to talk to Feng. The upperclassmen tended to avoid the underlings as much as possible. Feng didn't blame them; a lot of his class were dumb ass pricks. To put it nicely.
"Listen, Gilbert wants to have a party,"
"The flunky albino dude?"
"Ha yeah," Ivan had a nice laugh, Feng decided—so he warmed up to him a bit, Ivan carried on speaking. "Wanted only chill people invited. Alfred talked about you a few times, and I've seen you. You're not crazy so I figured why not."
Feliks chose that time to walk past, making a small jab,
"Yeah but like, he isn't really 'anything' if you know what I mean."
Ivan rolled violet hues. "Shut up no one asked you, go back to the kitchen. That wasn't even a clever comment."
Feng sort of let out an odd sound really at that—kind of like a cough/gag/chuckle breathy thing that had Ivan raising a brow at him.
"Was that a laugh?"
"It was a yes."
Feng was stoic as ever though, but Ivan could see then it was a hard schooled face. Feng had laughed and the sound in itself made him want to laugh as well. Ivan almost felt bad, almost. Feng wasn't a bad kid, he was just too naïve and innocent. At least… That's what some of the other boys at school said.
"It'll be at ten. Come whenever, yes?"
"Yeah. Will do."
Ivan was about to leave when he heard Feng's mellowed voice again.
"Hey wait. Thanks."
"Don't thank me. It's not a big deal."
But why did Feng have such an odd sinking feeling?
A page was rustled and turned, keen Emerald eyes taking in words, drinking them up. Looking at the life his adoptive son lead and absorbing it hungrily.
"Dear Diary,
Today I was invited to a party. I talked to Alfred and Matthew about it. Matthew said he would go with me, Alfred said he'd already been invited. I feel better knowing they're going to be there at least. I have to lie to Mr. Kirkland and that feels weird, I've never sneaked out before. They said there would be alcohol, and that I didn't have to drink it if I didn't want to—I'm not sure what I'll do yet.
I have to start getting ready, Matthew wants to help me dress. I'm nervous and excited. This is my first outing.
I hope I'll make friends.
I have no reason to be scared…-"
Mr. Kirkland stopped reading that entry, he didn't need to read anymore. That entry was the last entry in the book. He felt himself bubble up with rage. He knew about the party, Alfred and Matthew told him about it that night. Arthur remembered it with a chill down his spine.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Feng."
The two boys, Feng and Matthew were walking in the middle of the street, the snow wasn't thick here, both bundled up and arms hooked through eachother before traced back into their thick coat pockets. Well, Feng's coat was thick while Matthews was not. He was used to the cold, telling Feng once that he even enjoyed it! Feng called him crazy.
"It's a chance for me to maybe like, I don't know—be cool for once. Or something, I don't know."
They were walking around a bend in the winding road. If they looked far off into the distance they could see the dark outline of a forest in the night. The neighborhood they had to go to was a decent distance away—required late night walking, but they really weren't scared. It'd taken some time to cross a boulevard, a bridge going over iced up water, and were far enough past their Secondary school to judge it'd only take a few more minutes if they kept their pace brisk. They couldn't help though but stop on the road that lead north towards the hospital, staring into the forest when a particularly cold wind seemed to sweep out from it and wrap around them like icy tendrils. They shivered, huddled closer and continued down the road at a pace similar to a jog. The guy that wanted to hold such a party lived to the left of the road they were jogging down in a crescent, or sort of drive at the end of that street. The house was fairly new, two story with no fencing—a straight shot from the back of the house to the forest a sprints distance away. It was a little unnerving, that that was because Feng was used to big cities, one can't help but be a little paranoid.
Alfred had headed to the party previously via a ride from some friends, leaving Feng and Matthew to walk but neither really seemed to mind. They also had taken forever to get dressed. Feng was dressed warmly in dark slims jeans and calf boots that had a creamy coloured fur inside, a long beige colored coat with a fur hood, collar and cuffs. The layers beneath where a white long sleeve shirt with a deep maroon coloured sweater. Matthew was dressed similarly, though was enjoying wearing a bit more black, light jeans with long sleeved black shirts and sweaters and also a thick and dark beige coat similar to his Chinese counterparts. Alfred probably looked more stylish since he'd gotten a ride, that lucky bastard.
Their cheeks and noses equally and attractively red when arriving into the warm house and being greeted by boisterous voices in greeting. The two looked at eachother, Matthew reading the smile in Feng's eyes, while Feng could see the smile on Matthew's pale and thin lips.
"We don't have to split up if you don't want to." Matthew tossed their coats into the designated closet, turning in time to see Feng shaking his head, his wild tresses following the action.
"No it's fine. I hear games. You know I'm on that." Matthew rolled his eyes at this.
"Yes well I'm going to go find someone to dance with me."
"Che, good thing I don't dance."
They both waved and split up, Feng to join in a game of classic twister (which is very unlike his reserved self), and Matthew in hopes of finding a warm body.
Playing twister with all of these unknowns was so much fun, Feng barely showed his enjoyment though as he tried to twist around a companion and reach his designated colour with an awkwardly bent arm and hand. He recognized one person to be the pretty girl everyone called Elizabeth, the king himself; Gilbert, and another boy that Feng couldn't quite recall the name. Another hyper Asian he'd chosen not to get involved with up until this point.
Feng won this game with a few disguised nudged. All is fair in love and war after all—Feng sure did love to win.
Playing sure did make him thirsty though—and he was completely uninterested in the vast amounts of alcohol laying around. He'd found his way to the kitchen and made a cup of water, indulging in it until he heard some fairly boisterous shouts and jibes from the living area just outside from where he was. He couldn't help but go to check it out, a bit appalled at what he saw. A young boy, pretty blond hair and soft green eyes, fond of reds and golds by the color of his clothes-trembling little body held in a restraining fashion of that Ivan boy while he poured vodka down the boys throat. The kid coughing but seemed to drink it easily-though unwillingly. Everyone watching was laughing. Ivan was a childish bully, but Feng hadn't ever really acted scared of him, in return Ivan sort of left him alone. It was too bad that today was the day they'd get involved with each other.
"Knock it off." Feng couldn't believe he'd opened his mouth. The noise dimmed down a bit at that. Ivan looked at him with interest and the boy he held looked at him with a mixture of relief and pity too. What an odd combination…
"I'll do what I like."
"Well what you like isn't what he likes."
There was another long silence as they stared at each other, and slowly Ivan's fingers loosened their hold and let the boy go. Feng heard a cry of 'Raivis!' when the boy searched out his friends arms. Feng didn't see this though.
"Aaawh, you took away my fun." Ivan pouted with a childish sort of smile on his face. The look wiped of his face however when from behind someone swept Feng off his feet. Feng was able to tell this wasn't something Ivan had planned, nor wanted-but yet still nothing was done about it as he struggled with someone far bigger than him.
"Well if you're going to take our fun away, you should at least make up for it." He was held in a similar fashion, alcohol obtrusive to his nose. The young man grasping him was tall, build similar to the Russian counterpart but darker. Darker hair and eyes.
"You act all high and mighty, someone ought to teach you a lesson."
"No stop! It's not like that!" Feng's eyes filled with an attempt at hiding panic flash in the direction of such a distressed voice, Matthew was trying to make his way past the people to help him, but he was restrained. No one ever would have thought it'd turn out this way; Feng with his arms pinned to his side and trapped in someone's lap. He felt a hand on his jaw, a glass to his lips and a golden liquid splashing inside his mouth. A lot of this dribbling down his chin, but enough making it down his throat and burning it's way to his stomach. It was a dirty whiskey, something he'd never been introduced to. After the second forced shot Feng couldn't take it any longer. A scuffle ensuing when he slammed the side of his head into his tormentors nose. What had Feng been thinking? That a party would make these asshats change their ways? This was probably what'd they'd been hoping to do…
Feng managed to find himself standing, alcohol never settling well in the stomach of Asians. Matthew breaking free and trying to come to Feng's side. After that point, Feng didn't know who did it, but a punch was thrown that sent Matthew crashing into his arms, and he just went crazy. The two of them together doing their best to fight back, they were both flung backwards out of a screen door into the backyard, Matthew scrambling to his feet with a bruised jaw and aching shoulders-he pulled Feng to his feet just as three more boys flung themselves on the worthy opponents.
Feng was more than a worthy opponent, and once more he threw thanks to the wind for his brother. Flexible in all directions, nimble on sure feet as he dodged, parried, thwarted and made swift jabs. But all the spinning and jumping he was forced to do didn't let the alcohol settle well with him. He found his head spinning suddenly and he smartly slid backwards from the fighting. Pulling Matthew back with him, their hands locked around each others arms for stability.
"I feel like I'm gonna be sick." Feng tells Matthew honestly, Matthew remains silent but Feng knows the boy is trying to figure something out for them after that statement—the other boys were quickly converging on them after all. Some of their worries were quickly assuaged though when a rock hits one of them in the ribcage-he cringes and hunched forward as it was a rather large pointed stone that would surely bruise. Their attention was turned towards two boys or palor. Feng described them as the weird brothers of their school. They were unaffected by the cold. Dull blue eyes remained on the drunk instigators while vibrant violate ones stared hard at Feng. He stared back. But the staring contest was quickly ruined when an arm grabbed Feng by his free wrist-due to still holding tightly onto Matthew they were both jerked into a sprint. Short black hair was bouncing infront of his face. The small frame was quick on his feet, and it took all of Feng's concentration to remain connected to the Matthew keeping up behind him-and also keeping up with the student in front of them. Their breathes came out in quick steamy puffs from the sprint, the shouts behind them angry and audible as they got away-but went silent the minute the entered the fringe of the forest.
They were plunged into an eerie darkness, but yet the snow that made it through the evergreens and the sporadic dead trees somehow had an eerie glow on the forest floor. The three ran for a moment longer, diving over a fallen damp log and huddling behind it. Although Feng had crawled a few more feet away and was throwing up wretchedly. The spot he'd spewed in was steaming, and the two left leaning heavily on the log and catching their breath had turned away.
It'd appeared they had safely gotten away. Feng sinking onto his side in the damp snow for awhile to rest his warm forehead in the cold snow. Their savior watched, a hand on his chest as it rose and fell rapidly.
"Thank you for helping us… Who are you?"
"Honda, Kiku. And don't thank me yet. We still have to get back out and hope they aren't waiting for us."
Kiku and Matthew both turned towards Feng, but the boy was sitting up on hands and knees. Looking up intently into the forest ahead of him. He saw the strangest, tallest shadow pass briefly- heard odd crunching and steps in the snow.
"Did you… Hear that?" He rasped out, hoping he wasn't going crazy, but at the same time—really wished he was…
If you're even remotely interested in seeing more of this story, please be kind and review.
Second attempt at horror story.
Hope you enjoyed. Depends on my fans if there will be another installment to enjoy.
Thank you,
Daedricgurl
