Prologue
Okay, I am just writing this prologue so that way you can get a feel as to what this other story my friend and I are working on is all about. Basically, in this "chapter", there will only be, if there is any, dialogue from Arthur. I haven't communicated with my friend yet as to Francis' dialogue, so you don't get any of that yet. Sorry .
I would've begun writing chapter four of "Tables Turned: Parenting", but if I stop writing and then start writing at a later time, it completely messes up the creative flow… I sound so crazy.
NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED WITH 'MAGIC MARKER'
Anyway! Onto the prologue!
XXX
He gripped the wand tightly in his hand, refusing to let go. It was the only thing he had brought with him as he escaped the tyrannical house of his family; always being left out, bossed around, yelled at, and there was no one there to comfort him. He hated that place, hardly believing he once called it 'home'.
Arthur was never abused at his house, but he was constantly put to work while the rest of his family sat around the house, creating more tasks for Arthur to attend to. They would always yell at him when he completed the task, claiming he did it all wrong, sending him to his room without supper. Did I mention he was seventeen and still being treated like this?
He had absolutely no idea where he was, as he ran down the dirt path that led away from the village which now consisted of deep, thick mud. His shoes stuck to the ground with every step he took; running through it only it made it worse. Quickly ruining his shoes, he began to get tired and gradually slowed down the hasty pace at which he was escaping the life to which he had been chained.
Heart racing, hair and clothes soaked and his mind in a haze, Arthur completely stopped running and took temporary shelter under a nearby tree. This obviously was not the best choice, seeing as how he was under a very tall, slim tree in a thunderstorm. It was his only option though, if he wanted to rest for a bit. Looking behind him, he saw the foot prints that slowly vanished as the mud shifted back into place, and was thankful for such a thing. Now no one would be able to track him; not even the dogs. His scent had to be washed away from the pouring rain on anything he touched, even the tree he was leaning up against now; it was almost as if he was never there.
He regained his stamina quickly, and continued on his way to a new life; to a place where no one knew who he was, or why he had come there. They would know nothing of his past, or his special power. No one would accuse him of being crazy or think his drawings were worthless cries for attention. He knew what he saw, as well as what he dreamed at night, wasn't a cry for attention. He didn't know why he dreamed of such demented, maniacal, and psychotic things. Drawing them wasn't his choice either.
Arthur loved to draw, ever since he was little, and has always slept with a marker and paper near his bedside in case he woke to an idea. He used to see the most adorable things; Flying Mint Bunnies, unicorns, pixies and fairies, and all sorts of things! They were all harmless, and he enjoyed dreaming because of them. But every morning, when he tried to draw them out, he could never remember what they looked like, and when he tried to draw them they came out demonic looking. They weren't bad drawings at all, just very, very demonic in nature. Eventually, he began to see his drawings as he slept. The sweet, loving friends he always enjoyed the company of, soon turned to pure terror. He never wanted to sleep again after he saw these for the first time, but was forced to by his family because he was keeping them awake as well with the constant noise coming from his room; the quill pen scratching the surface of the paper.
Whenever Arthur awakes from these dreams, he always finds that they are perfectly drawn-out on the paper that is on his end table. Every last detail, down to the evil look in their eye, is captured in these drawings.
We have all (most likely) used a marker before, and know it is hard to make things detailed with one. In the time that Arthur lived in, there was no such thing as a marker. Arthur claimed he bought it from a merchant that was passing through town, and he called it a 'Magic Marker'. Everyone denied what Arthur claimed, and when he tried to show it to people, they would tell him it was a feather pen and an ink bottle! They couldn't see what Arthur was really holding in his hands, and eventually, Arthur couldn't see its true "marker" form either. In his eyes, it became a wand.
The wand was a dark-brown color, with a diamond pattern carved into it about halfway down the length of the wand. Below that, it was smooth so a person could grip it with comfort, and at the very bottom of the wand there was a green jewel that glowed whenever Arthur became frightened.
None of this mattered to Arthur now. All he wanted to do was run away from the monsters that tortured him even if it was only from the people who were referred to as his 'parents'. He didn't even think they were his real parents! He looked nothing like them, let alone any of his siblings. He always knew he wasn't related to them by blood, but they always told him that he was their child, and no one else's; and not in a loving way either.
Arthur's mind and body were not in sync as he kept running. He was hardly able to think at all, but when he could, he began to figure out something very important.
Maybe… just maybe… if I run far enough away from them… those dreams will go away too…
Unfortunately, Arthur began to get tired again, and sat down under a tree, legs stretched out in front of him. He knew he wasn't far from a village, for he saw smoke rising from what looked like a house about half a mile away. He would have continued running and tried to find shelter there, but he could barely breathe as it is, and felt like he was going to die if he didn't rest again for a moment.
Suddenly, a loud crack was heard above his head, and he looked up. Before he could react, a huge branch fell onto his right leg, due to the fact he moved his left one. He screamed out in pain, and attempted to move the branch that was on the now numbed-area of his leg. It was too heavy for him to move though. He was stuck.
XXXXX
A screamed pierced the tranquility of the woods; a pained scream.
Francis got down from where he was hunting in the branches of a tree. He did admit, it wasn't his smartest idea, but he needed food. He had been on his own for two weeks now. He left his parent's house about two weeks ago, without saying goodbye. Of course, no one was looking for him, for no one cared about him. He was completely able to live on his own. After all, he was seventeen.
With that, he put the laser back in its holster, and he ran towards where the screams were coming from, each becoming fainter than the next. He could tell it was from a young man, maybe his age.
Who, other than me, would be out in weather like this?
He hated the rain, for he claimed it ruined his beautiful, flowing hair. He honestly had no choice in the matter though, as he could not control the weather.
When he thought he was really close to the source of the screams, they suddenly stopped, and were replaced with coughing, and then what sounded like someone trying to stifle a scream. He walked through the bushes, and found the blonde boy sitting on the ground, looking pale as blood ran from his leg and into the green grass beneath him. Francis quickly moved the branch (which was about the size of a log) off of his leg, and ripped part of his tunic off to make a bandage. The blonde's eye seemed fuzzy, as well as pained. His hair was matted with dirt and debris, and his clothes were ripped and full of mud. Behind all of that, he saw that the boy was younger than he expected; probably about fifteen years old.
The boy finally spoke after a few minutes of silence between the two.
"Can you… get that for me?" The boy lifted his arm and pointed to something that was lying on the ground, about three feet away. Francis picked it up, and saw that it was a wand with a green jewel at the bottom. He admired the craftsmanship of it before handing it back to the boy.
"Where did you obtain a wand, mon cher?"
The boy's eyes gained some emotion at hearing the question. Francis wasn't sure whether it was because he just spoke French, or because he knew it was a wand.
"Y-you can see… that it's a wand?" It was the latter.
"Oui, je peux."
"In English… you frog." He was glaring at Francis the best that he could, but wasn't able to reach the point of scaring Francis. With a sigh, Francis repeated himself.
"Yes, I can."
"Can you see this… as well?" suddenly, the tip of the wand began to grow a light blue color, and when the boy touched it to his leg, he regained full mobility of it, and it was no longer bleeding. He looked at Francis, whose eyes were wide with amazement. "By the gobsmacked look on your face, I suppose you can."
"Wait," Francis took the laser out, "What do you see this as?"
The boy looked very puzzled. He held out his hand as an offer for him to see it, and Francis allowed him to see it.
"If you'd like to see how it works, point it at that thing over there, and pull this little part with your finger." The boy looked to where the Frenchman had pointed, and saw a creature from his dreams.
"You can see that as well? Of all the people I run into, I run into someone like me!" he followed Francis' order, and shot the mouse-looking creature with wings down. It became dust particles, and the once hideous, purple creature became a friendly-looking, mint colored creature. Francis took the laser from the boy, and put it in his holster.
"We have the same nightmares, I suppose." Francis suddenly realized something; he never gave the boy his name, and never learned his, "Oh oui, my name is Francis. What shall I address you as?"
"Arthur. Arthur is fine." He looked over to the small, green bunny with wings, and called out to it, "Flying Mint Bunny! Come over here, would you?" The small creature happily came over, and sat on Arthur's head. Francis chuckled to himself at the sight.
"I'm glad you two have met," the small bunny said as he got off of Arthur's head, "I've been meaning to tell you each about what has been happening around here. First of all, can we get out of this weather? I'm getting a bit sick of it."
"Why yes, petite créature. I have a house not too far from here." He turned to Arthur. "Can you walk?"
"Yes. The magic completely healed my wounds. I'm fine now that I have my wand."
The three of them began to walk towards the village, Francis asking along the way if Arthur had some sort of teleporting spell. The boy just shook his head, coughing once again.
XXX
Okay! Well, that is the end of the prologue! I hope you enjoyed it and are willing to read the rest of the story once I write it! :D
I apologize in advance if any of my French is wrong. (I was using Google translate…)
You know what is good but also bad? The fact that right now I have another idea for a fan fiction… It's a PruCan story… I'm not starting that yet! No, no, no, no, no! I need to get to at least chapter 6 on here and chapter 9 on my other story!
So, how do you guys like this story thus far? Have any suggestions? Want a cupcake? (I had one earlier today. Red Velvet. :3)
This is all I will be uploading for a while, due to the fact that I have a ton of school work to do.
Alex will be back eventually! She isn't taking a vacation; trust me! (I'll write some of this during school when I get done my work early, okay?) Bye bye~!
