My name. Is Ryn. Ryn Nightingale. Don't ask why I picked that name. It just so happens that I spent half of my life in a dog crate somewhere in some cursed, freaky, antisepticky, lab place. It was all I ever knew until I went Karate Kid and blasted my way out of there. As soon as I was out, it was like a complete paradigm shift, like a baby chick breaking out of a comfy, cozy little shell and into the real world. At first it seems like a great discovery, then, when things finally set in of how cruel and vile and disgustingly horrid this world can be, that poor little chicky would wish so bad that he could forget all about this bad place and go back to being oblivious. Wouldn't we all?
No, it wasn't easy. I just happened to run by this store with interesting, magical boxes called television sets, which happened to be playing the famous Doctor Who series show Blink, so I adapted the name. The last name at least.
Well, since I broke out of that bloody prison, I have been on a mission. A mission for my siblings. You see, I have a younger brother and sister who, like me, kind of have wings, and who, like me, are always running for their lives.
Who or what do we run from? Oh, just insane maniacs calling themselves genetic geniuses who are always trying to dissect our brains for experiments. No biggie. See, small things really.
Why do they do this? Like I said before, we have these things called wings, but that's nothing unusual right? Wrong! We were just sort of taken, or in mine and my siblings' cases, bought from our parents at birth for wacky science experiments to draft avian DNA into our systems.
But here is the punch line for these evil science geeks. I thought I loved one. I thought he had real feelings for me. We would take walks and hold hands. He would blink those big, gorgeous, brown eyes at me and flash his brilliant smile, and I would melt and smile awkwardly and flip my blondish-brown hair streaked with orange while fluttering my blue-green eyes at hem. I am such a cheese cracker!
Ow-! Great. My wing got singed by lightning! Sorry lightning, don't mind me. I am just flying along in a thunderstorm, trying not to get killed on my way to this meeting place I read about on some person's blog. Hopefully, I know the right one.