A/N: Hey everybody! Your favorite reviewer is trying her hand at *writing*
a story! Scary thought, but hold your breath and here goes.
Special Thanks to my beta reader, silvercaladan
Disclaimer: If you think I own the x-men, then you need to get your head checked. If you want to *give* me the x-men, then I *still* think you need to get your head checked. Why aren't you keeping them for yourself?? 'Course I never say no to a present.
Prologue: Meet the Ghost
The evening sun shines bleakly on the grimy streets. Unless you look closely, it doesn't look like anyone lives 'round here. A bunch of old apartments crowded together, most destined for the wrecking ball. 'Cept ours isn't mostly abandoned.
As I'm sitting on my windowsill you can't see me. But it's not your eyesight. My window's on the eighth floor anyway, and most people don't crane their necks. Instead they hurry away, staring at either the pavement below their feet or the pavement straight in front of them. I always wonder what they're hurrying to, that they don't even glance around them. Maybe they think there's nothing worth seeing in a dump like this. Maybe they'd be right.
'Cause even if you did look up, to see where the rain clouds were or something, I wouldn't be there. You see, I'm invisible. See-straight- through-me invisible. Practically a ghost and all. And when I'm perched on the ledge outside my eighth story window, I don't care if I fall. 'Cause I know that Celia will hear me screaming in her thoughts, and fly around to catch me. 'Cause you see, we're all like that here. We're all different.
Guess you could call us mutants.
'Cept were not like those mutants on TV. They get more media time than a lot of politicians, those X-Men and all. Pretty funny, though, since most political types hate their guts.
And us? We just live here, in this old abandoned-looking building, escaping the police or the mobs, and sometimes the rest of our families. It's a safe haven for us misfits, and we'd like to keep it that way as long as it's possible.
But who knows if it'll be possible anymore? 'Cause Jonathon saw a sign sayin that they're gonna build a big shopping complex and all here. And I don't think that they'll build it on top of all these dead apartments. Sometimes I think we'll be lucky if we know when that wrecking crew will come so we can get out.
a/n: well, what do you think?? I know its kinda dark and all, but come on, this is just a prologue and I'm *sure* that if I get lots of reviews then my writing style will miraculously improve. And my sense of humor will erupt. (That can be good or bad) For the meantime, I need your support. Any ideas, questions, complaints, suggestions, random wanderings? The little blue box compels you to say something!
Disclaimer: If you think I own the x-men, then you need to get your head checked. If you want to *give* me the x-men, then I *still* think you need to get your head checked. Why aren't you keeping them for yourself?? 'Course I never say no to a present.
Prologue: Meet the Ghost
The evening sun shines bleakly on the grimy streets. Unless you look closely, it doesn't look like anyone lives 'round here. A bunch of old apartments crowded together, most destined for the wrecking ball. 'Cept ours isn't mostly abandoned.
As I'm sitting on my windowsill you can't see me. But it's not your eyesight. My window's on the eighth floor anyway, and most people don't crane their necks. Instead they hurry away, staring at either the pavement below their feet or the pavement straight in front of them. I always wonder what they're hurrying to, that they don't even glance around them. Maybe they think there's nothing worth seeing in a dump like this. Maybe they'd be right.
'Cause even if you did look up, to see where the rain clouds were or something, I wouldn't be there. You see, I'm invisible. See-straight- through-me invisible. Practically a ghost and all. And when I'm perched on the ledge outside my eighth story window, I don't care if I fall. 'Cause I know that Celia will hear me screaming in her thoughts, and fly around to catch me. 'Cause you see, we're all like that here. We're all different.
Guess you could call us mutants.
'Cept were not like those mutants on TV. They get more media time than a lot of politicians, those X-Men and all. Pretty funny, though, since most political types hate their guts.
And us? We just live here, in this old abandoned-looking building, escaping the police or the mobs, and sometimes the rest of our families. It's a safe haven for us misfits, and we'd like to keep it that way as long as it's possible.
But who knows if it'll be possible anymore? 'Cause Jonathon saw a sign sayin that they're gonna build a big shopping complex and all here. And I don't think that they'll build it on top of all these dead apartments. Sometimes I think we'll be lucky if we know when that wrecking crew will come so we can get out.
a/n: well, what do you think?? I know its kinda dark and all, but come on, this is just a prologue and I'm *sure* that if I get lots of reviews then my writing style will miraculously improve. And my sense of humor will erupt. (That can be good or bad) For the meantime, I need your support. Any ideas, questions, complaints, suggestions, random wanderings? The little blue box compels you to say something!
