Legacy
Chapter One:
Every morning starts out a certain way. Weather it ends up being great or bad, we can not tell, but somehow I knew, not think or feel but a solid block of knowledge in my human brain told me that this day would change me and my life for as long as I lived.
I awoke to the bed-table alarm clock like every morning. It was because of that alarm that always got me to school five minutes too early. "Too" is the keyword. That alarm clock was so loud I wondered if my dead mother could hear it in heaven.
I grabbed the black jeans laying worthlessly on my bed room floor and put them on along with a white muscle shirt, as some called it, and finished it all off with a comb to my black sleek hair and black boots over my feet. I went down stairs and ignored the tornado that ha struck my bedroom. I was never one for neatness in my own private quarters.
I fought back the long black locks of hair the constantly fell into my dark amber eyes. It was my own fault too. I wanted my hair in a certain way, and with that came down sides and this was one of them. My hair came down below my cheekbone and "usually" curved slightly to the back of my bony face.
My father was in the kitchen like every early morning. Since mom had died he had out it upon himself to provide for both our needs. That was fine until he barged into my room, when I was at school, once a month.
Well breakfast was sure to be. How can I put this? A real treat? Don't get me wrong, I loved him and he was my dad, but honestly, did he have to torture me with his "concoctions" he dared to call good cooking? As it was, today's special was old-fashioned buttermilk pancakes and if it was old fashion, it must have gone a long ways back. I wondered what people thought they ate back then.
"Morning Sky. You're finally awake." My dad greeted me while flipping a pancake. Awake? I've lived here for eighteen years of my life and he still can't tell time. Not to mention that name. I have always cursed my mother for giving birth to me at dawn as the sun rose and glowed over me in the hospital window.
"Morning." I mumbled back while grabbing my leather jacket from the coat closet. I had some extra cash; maybe I would stop at a Burger King on the way to school instead. "I'm going to go to school early this morning."
"Why?" My father asked in shock as a small pancake fell to the floor. He stooped over on his thick legs and cleaned it up. My father was 5'1; fortunately I inherited my grandfather's height. I was 5'9.
"No reason. I just feel like it I guess."
"Alright. By the way do you have to work today?" I was already at the door.
"I might." I replied opening the oak door.
"Well if you don't I need some help with an experiment tonight at the lab." He meant his basement.
"Trying to bring back Frankenstein, dad?" I asked playfully. The large man chuckled and I shrugged.
"If I can I'll be here." And then I closed the door.
Chapter One:
Every morning starts out a certain way. Weather it ends up being great or bad, we can not tell, but somehow I knew, not think or feel but a solid block of knowledge in my human brain told me that this day would change me and my life for as long as I lived.
I awoke to the bed-table alarm clock like every morning. It was because of that alarm that always got me to school five minutes too early. "Too" is the keyword. That alarm clock was so loud I wondered if my dead mother could hear it in heaven.
I grabbed the black jeans laying worthlessly on my bed room floor and put them on along with a white muscle shirt, as some called it, and finished it all off with a comb to my black sleek hair and black boots over my feet. I went down stairs and ignored the tornado that ha struck my bedroom. I was never one for neatness in my own private quarters.
I fought back the long black locks of hair the constantly fell into my dark amber eyes. It was my own fault too. I wanted my hair in a certain way, and with that came down sides and this was one of them. My hair came down below my cheekbone and "usually" curved slightly to the back of my bony face.
My father was in the kitchen like every early morning. Since mom had died he had out it upon himself to provide for both our needs. That was fine until he barged into my room, when I was at school, once a month.
Well breakfast was sure to be. How can I put this? A real treat? Don't get me wrong, I loved him and he was my dad, but honestly, did he have to torture me with his "concoctions" he dared to call good cooking? As it was, today's special was old-fashioned buttermilk pancakes and if it was old fashion, it must have gone a long ways back. I wondered what people thought they ate back then.
"Morning Sky. You're finally awake." My dad greeted me while flipping a pancake. Awake? I've lived here for eighteen years of my life and he still can't tell time. Not to mention that name. I have always cursed my mother for giving birth to me at dawn as the sun rose and glowed over me in the hospital window.
"Morning." I mumbled back while grabbing my leather jacket from the coat closet. I had some extra cash; maybe I would stop at a Burger King on the way to school instead. "I'm going to go to school early this morning."
"Why?" My father asked in shock as a small pancake fell to the floor. He stooped over on his thick legs and cleaned it up. My father was 5'1; fortunately I inherited my grandfather's height. I was 5'9.
"No reason. I just feel like it I guess."
"Alright. By the way do you have to work today?" I was already at the door.
"I might." I replied opening the oak door.
"Well if you don't I need some help with an experiment tonight at the lab." He meant his basement.
"Trying to bring back Frankenstein, dad?" I asked playfully. The large man chuckled and I shrugged.
"If I can I'll be here." And then I closed the door.