Post by grayfur on May 26, 2007 18:47:35 GMT -5
Guys, I need a title for this story. Just read it adn giv eme some advice. it snot a FF, it sjust a original story. Kida is based off Kiba. Ah, ah? Clever. ^^
here ya go
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A young figure padded down the San Fransisco cobblestone streets, his head tilted in a sharp angle downwards, a mass of brown hair covering his face. Wispy oak bangs covered his icy blue eyes, and his hair was parted to the left to cover the side of his face. Fixed on the road in front of him, the boy continued, glaring at anyone who came close to staring at him. A black ripped backpack was hanging loosely from his shoulder.
The wind blew against his ripped black shirt and torn jeans. The dog tags that were clipped to a brown leather collar around his neck clanged together to make a calm sound. The boy quickly covered up a large bruise on his right arm as he passed a crowd of people lining up to see a movie. Never moving his head, he was like an invisible shadow.
The young boy finally reached his destination, a small, old house near the edge of a shady street. The paint was torn and the porch had patches of wood covering where holes had been. The door was unhinged and hanging loosely from the frame, and the screen had several holes where bullets might have been shot through.
Slowly, the young boy put a foot on the torn-up tile floor. The inside of the house was worse from the outside. Broken plates were scattered all over the ground, and the walls had dried specks of blood plastered to their white walls. Chairs were flung over and windows were cracked or broken. The stairs that led down to the basement were old as if the wood were gong to break once you stepped foot on them.
A large man was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. His blonde hair was oily and stuck to the sides of his face. His blue eyes were blood shot and his face was scratched and scarred. He wore a black leather jacket over a blood specked white shirt. His blue jeans had splotches of white paint and what looked like mouse fur pasted on them. He was muscular, but looked like he had seen some stuff.
Once the large man came into view, the boy’s body froze. He either could not, or would not, move from the position he was at. His icy blue eyes widened in fear, and his teeth were calmed shut so tight, it was as if he was trying to break a piece of rock. Finally able to move away, he backed p a few steppes, put stopped after he realized he could not move anymore because of the door. Frantically, he pressed his back against the wire mesh and slowly reached for the handle.
At the instant he had moved, the man jumped from his seat and quickly grabbed the boys free arm and yanked it so hard, he almost pulled it off. The teenager let go of the door and let the stranger reel him in, his icy blue eyes fixed on the older man’s sharp dark blue ones.
“Where’re ya goin’, Kida?” the older man hissed in the boy’s ear, his breath thick with the stench of alcohol mixed with tobacco. Kida shook and his body was cold with fear. He slowly shook his head and backed away from the door, never taking his eyes off the man.
“N-n-no,” he stuttered. “No-nowhere, D—dad.”
The man smiled. “It’s Sir to you,” he sneered. Kida was too slow to react as a hand flew out of nowhere and hit him hard against the left side of his face, exposing a long deep gash. It was almost 2 ½ inches thick and ran from his temple down to his chin. It was pink and red, from being hit so many times.
Kida slammed into a kitchen counter, hitting his head hard against the cold marble surface. His father came at him again, violent attacks followed by massive cursing.
“Bastard!” he shot while punching Kida in the stomach. “You little piece of shit!”
Kida was used to hearing his father call him these things, and he stood still while rolling with the punches. When his father was finished, he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged outside to an enclosed piece of the front lawn, a chain linked fence surrounding half of it. A red doghouse was centered in the middle, and a sign that read. “Beware of dog” fixed on the front lawn. His father threw him roughly against the hard cement driveway, his face smashing into the rock hard element, tears streaming from his eyes. His father grabbed him again and threw his face on the ground, swearing at him madly. Kida didn’t make a peep, blood smearing against the gray colored rock.
When his father was finished, he was pulled to the doghouse, chained with shackles and an iron collar that fit tightly around his neck connected by a silver chain that was short but long enough for him to press his body up against the fence. Barbed wire was fixed on top, red with rust.
“Until you show some respect, you’ll live here!” his father called giddily, his voice full of drunken laughter. Kida didn’t reply. He crawled into the doghouse and curled in a tight ball while the rain fell in thick drops around him. He was safe for now. Kida tried to curl tighter to preserve whatever heat he had left, his brown hair caked in mud and dirt.
But this was only the beginning.
------
chap 2
-
Kida sat in the darkness of the doghouse, his body curled up in a ball to regain the heat that he was losing fast. He tucked his head between his knees, determined not to freeze to death. He shook slightly, thunder booming from outside. He had been out here fir 5 hours now and it was only 7:00. He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten in 2 days. Soaked from water, he rubbed the metal restraint around his neck and the shackles on his legs and wrists that were connected to the doghouse by a long link chain.
No one was going to help him, he knew that much. No one in school knew his horrible condition, how he had got his scars, and why he was so dark and mysterious. He was no one to them. He had tried to tell his teacher, but she though he was making it up.
Night after night he sat in the dog house, picking off small chicken bones that still had scraps of meat on them. He was terribly thin and badly cut, the marks from his father coming at him with a butting knife.
Soon, Kida fell in a deep sleep, ignoring his aching body. It was a cold night, but it wasn’t as bad as some he had encountered. He had been in worse conditions, like being pinned to the front of his dad’s pickup while he shopped for alcohol. Humiliating as it was, Kida gained some body heat from it. Other times when he was at home, Kida was tied to a locked door handle, a noose around his neck while his dad watched TV.
As morning peeked over the bright blue bay, Kida slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting on something soft; at least he thought he was. Glancing around, he realized he was down on his mattress in the basement. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to find the image false in his mind.
Footsteps crept slowly down the broken stairs, and the door creaked and groaned as his father opened it. Kida jumped with surprise and looked over at the large man. He was carrying his backpack with his homework in it. But there was something different in his eyes that Kida had never seen before: happiness.
Kida cocked his head trying to understand his father’s strange mood. It was new to him. The dad he had known was hard and pushy, and never helped the weak. That was why Kida couldn’t cry; he didn’t want to show his father that he was scared.
Stephen stepped down the cement stars and gave his backpack gently to his son. Kida didn’t take it at first, and glanced up at his father in confusion.
“Take it,” Stephen said in an upbeat voice. Kida stared at the backpack, then at his father, as if he was trying to figure out why he wasn’t on the floor right now, begging for mercy.
Kida took the backpack and flung it on his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on his father.
“If they ask,” he muttered happily, “Just tell them you… uh… well, make something up!” The coldness came back in his voice and his father’s eyes filled with the hatred they were without a few minutes ago. Obviously, he couldn’t keep up his goody-goody act for very long. Kida nodded, as if he understood. His father smiled and patted him on the back.
Kida left quickly, and arrived to school on time, as always. And as always, the kids stared at him as if he were something unclean. Kida stopped by his locker to empty his things, only to bump into Tony, a friend of his.
“What are ya doin’?” Tony asked in his upbeat, happy voice. The blonde was never down, and his brown eyes sparkled with delight at everything, even threats. It was good to have Tony as a friend, but Kida did not dare spill his guts. The brown eyes wonder had a tendency… to spread rumors.
Kida shrugged and slammed the steel door and walked away from Tony, hoping he’d at least ignore him for once. No such luck. Tony came bouncing at him with hig speed that nearly knocked Kida over. He crashed into a nearby girl, sending them both tumbling on the floor.
The girl looked at him with fear, and pushed him off. Kida sat there, dumbfounded. What had just happened? The girl fled to her friends, her blonde hair flying behind her like a tornado. One of her friends, a brunette with eyes like Kida’s, grabbed his wrist. Kida winced slightly, for that was the wrist that was cut up badly from the shackles.
“Who do you think you are?” the brunette spat. Kida shook his head and pulled away from her, but the blue eyes girl didn’t give up. She reeled him in, and then pushed him to the floor.
Kida gave her a hard stare, got up, and continued walking as if nothing had ever happened. The brunette just glared at him, her eyes narrowed as if she found him appetizing. Tony gawked at him and finally cracked up a toothy grin.
“Awesome, dude!” he howled and shook Kida’s hand informally. Hida shrugged and continued to walk forward. Something made Tony stare and grab Kida’s arm, bringing it up to his face to inspect. Kida frantically pulled away, hoping that Tony hadn’t seen the marks on it. Too late.
“Dude, what’s that?” Tony asked, pointing to Kida’s wrists. Kida fumbled slightly and covered it up with a shaky hand, wincing as searing pain warped through his body. He immediately gave a slight strike and let go of his hand, panting like a dog.
“N-nothin’,” Kida stammered, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down. He stared at the ground for a bit, and glanced up at Tony again. He shrugged.
“W’ever,” he smiled and waved Kida a goodbye. Kida sighed with relief and continued onward to his homeroom class, hoping there would be no more stops.
Kida got to Mrs. Daniel’s class, flustered and sweaty. He staggered to his seat and collapsed on the chair, flinging his body forward. Mrs. Daniel did no approve of Kida’s entrance and strode up to him, a ruler in her hand.
“Excuse me, Mr. Genston,” she said in her ususal sharp tone. Kida didn’t bother to glance up, “Do you mind explaining why-” Mrs. Daniel stopped, and gave Kida a sideways glance. She quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him off his chair.
0---------------
an: its realllllly sad I know! I;m sorry! But I enjoyed writing it. more comin soon. fav characte rhas to be Tony. XD
here ya go
-------------
A young figure padded down the San Fransisco cobblestone streets, his head tilted in a sharp angle downwards, a mass of brown hair covering his face. Wispy oak bangs covered his icy blue eyes, and his hair was parted to the left to cover the side of his face. Fixed on the road in front of him, the boy continued, glaring at anyone who came close to staring at him. A black ripped backpack was hanging loosely from his shoulder.
The wind blew against his ripped black shirt and torn jeans. The dog tags that were clipped to a brown leather collar around his neck clanged together to make a calm sound. The boy quickly covered up a large bruise on his right arm as he passed a crowd of people lining up to see a movie. Never moving his head, he was like an invisible shadow.
The young boy finally reached his destination, a small, old house near the edge of a shady street. The paint was torn and the porch had patches of wood covering where holes had been. The door was unhinged and hanging loosely from the frame, and the screen had several holes where bullets might have been shot through.
Slowly, the young boy put a foot on the torn-up tile floor. The inside of the house was worse from the outside. Broken plates were scattered all over the ground, and the walls had dried specks of blood plastered to their white walls. Chairs were flung over and windows were cracked or broken. The stairs that led down to the basement were old as if the wood were gong to break once you stepped foot on them.
A large man was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. His blonde hair was oily and stuck to the sides of his face. His blue eyes were blood shot and his face was scratched and scarred. He wore a black leather jacket over a blood specked white shirt. His blue jeans had splotches of white paint and what looked like mouse fur pasted on them. He was muscular, but looked like he had seen some stuff.
Once the large man came into view, the boy’s body froze. He either could not, or would not, move from the position he was at. His icy blue eyes widened in fear, and his teeth were calmed shut so tight, it was as if he was trying to break a piece of rock. Finally able to move away, he backed p a few steppes, put stopped after he realized he could not move anymore because of the door. Frantically, he pressed his back against the wire mesh and slowly reached for the handle.
At the instant he had moved, the man jumped from his seat and quickly grabbed the boys free arm and yanked it so hard, he almost pulled it off. The teenager let go of the door and let the stranger reel him in, his icy blue eyes fixed on the older man’s sharp dark blue ones.
“Where’re ya goin’, Kida?” the older man hissed in the boy’s ear, his breath thick with the stench of alcohol mixed with tobacco. Kida shook and his body was cold with fear. He slowly shook his head and backed away from the door, never taking his eyes off the man.
“N-n-no,” he stuttered. “No-nowhere, D—dad.”
The man smiled. “It’s Sir to you,” he sneered. Kida was too slow to react as a hand flew out of nowhere and hit him hard against the left side of his face, exposing a long deep gash. It was almost 2 ½ inches thick and ran from his temple down to his chin. It was pink and red, from being hit so many times.
Kida slammed into a kitchen counter, hitting his head hard against the cold marble surface. His father came at him again, violent attacks followed by massive cursing.
“Bastard!” he shot while punching Kida in the stomach. “You little piece of shit!”
Kida was used to hearing his father call him these things, and he stood still while rolling with the punches. When his father was finished, he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged outside to an enclosed piece of the front lawn, a chain linked fence surrounding half of it. A red doghouse was centered in the middle, and a sign that read. “Beware of dog” fixed on the front lawn. His father threw him roughly against the hard cement driveway, his face smashing into the rock hard element, tears streaming from his eyes. His father grabbed him again and threw his face on the ground, swearing at him madly. Kida didn’t make a peep, blood smearing against the gray colored rock.
When his father was finished, he was pulled to the doghouse, chained with shackles and an iron collar that fit tightly around his neck connected by a silver chain that was short but long enough for him to press his body up against the fence. Barbed wire was fixed on top, red with rust.
“Until you show some respect, you’ll live here!” his father called giddily, his voice full of drunken laughter. Kida didn’t reply. He crawled into the doghouse and curled in a tight ball while the rain fell in thick drops around him. He was safe for now. Kida tried to curl tighter to preserve whatever heat he had left, his brown hair caked in mud and dirt.
But this was only the beginning.
------
chap 2
-
Kida sat in the darkness of the doghouse, his body curled up in a ball to regain the heat that he was losing fast. He tucked his head between his knees, determined not to freeze to death. He shook slightly, thunder booming from outside. He had been out here fir 5 hours now and it was only 7:00. He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten in 2 days. Soaked from water, he rubbed the metal restraint around his neck and the shackles on his legs and wrists that were connected to the doghouse by a long link chain.
No one was going to help him, he knew that much. No one in school knew his horrible condition, how he had got his scars, and why he was so dark and mysterious. He was no one to them. He had tried to tell his teacher, but she though he was making it up.
Night after night he sat in the dog house, picking off small chicken bones that still had scraps of meat on them. He was terribly thin and badly cut, the marks from his father coming at him with a butting knife.
Soon, Kida fell in a deep sleep, ignoring his aching body. It was a cold night, but it wasn’t as bad as some he had encountered. He had been in worse conditions, like being pinned to the front of his dad’s pickup while he shopped for alcohol. Humiliating as it was, Kida gained some body heat from it. Other times when he was at home, Kida was tied to a locked door handle, a noose around his neck while his dad watched TV.
As morning peeked over the bright blue bay, Kida slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting on something soft; at least he thought he was. Glancing around, he realized he was down on his mattress in the basement. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying to find the image false in his mind.
Footsteps crept slowly down the broken stairs, and the door creaked and groaned as his father opened it. Kida jumped with surprise and looked over at the large man. He was carrying his backpack with his homework in it. But there was something different in his eyes that Kida had never seen before: happiness.
Kida cocked his head trying to understand his father’s strange mood. It was new to him. The dad he had known was hard and pushy, and never helped the weak. That was why Kida couldn’t cry; he didn’t want to show his father that he was scared.
Stephen stepped down the cement stars and gave his backpack gently to his son. Kida didn’t take it at first, and glanced up at his father in confusion.
“Take it,” Stephen said in an upbeat voice. Kida stared at the backpack, then at his father, as if he was trying to figure out why he wasn’t on the floor right now, begging for mercy.
Kida took the backpack and flung it on his shoulder, still keeping his eyes on his father.
“If they ask,” he muttered happily, “Just tell them you… uh… well, make something up!” The coldness came back in his voice and his father’s eyes filled with the hatred they were without a few minutes ago. Obviously, he couldn’t keep up his goody-goody act for very long. Kida nodded, as if he understood. His father smiled and patted him on the back.
Kida left quickly, and arrived to school on time, as always. And as always, the kids stared at him as if he were something unclean. Kida stopped by his locker to empty his things, only to bump into Tony, a friend of his.
“What are ya doin’?” Tony asked in his upbeat, happy voice. The blonde was never down, and his brown eyes sparkled with delight at everything, even threats. It was good to have Tony as a friend, but Kida did not dare spill his guts. The brown eyes wonder had a tendency… to spread rumors.
Kida shrugged and slammed the steel door and walked away from Tony, hoping he’d at least ignore him for once. No such luck. Tony came bouncing at him with hig speed that nearly knocked Kida over. He crashed into a nearby girl, sending them both tumbling on the floor.
The girl looked at him with fear, and pushed him off. Kida sat there, dumbfounded. What had just happened? The girl fled to her friends, her blonde hair flying behind her like a tornado. One of her friends, a brunette with eyes like Kida’s, grabbed his wrist. Kida winced slightly, for that was the wrist that was cut up badly from the shackles.
“Who do you think you are?” the brunette spat. Kida shook his head and pulled away from her, but the blue eyes girl didn’t give up. She reeled him in, and then pushed him to the floor.
Kida gave her a hard stare, got up, and continued walking as if nothing had ever happened. The brunette just glared at him, her eyes narrowed as if she found him appetizing. Tony gawked at him and finally cracked up a toothy grin.
“Awesome, dude!” he howled and shook Kida’s hand informally. Hida shrugged and continued to walk forward. Something made Tony stare and grab Kida’s arm, bringing it up to his face to inspect. Kida frantically pulled away, hoping that Tony hadn’t seen the marks on it. Too late.
“Dude, what’s that?” Tony asked, pointing to Kida’s wrists. Kida fumbled slightly and covered it up with a shaky hand, wincing as searing pain warped through his body. He immediately gave a slight strike and let go of his hand, panting like a dog.
“N-nothin’,” Kida stammered, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down. He stared at the ground for a bit, and glanced up at Tony again. He shrugged.
“W’ever,” he smiled and waved Kida a goodbye. Kida sighed with relief and continued onward to his homeroom class, hoping there would be no more stops.
Kida got to Mrs. Daniel’s class, flustered and sweaty. He staggered to his seat and collapsed on the chair, flinging his body forward. Mrs. Daniel did no approve of Kida’s entrance and strode up to him, a ruler in her hand.
“Excuse me, Mr. Genston,” she said in her ususal sharp tone. Kida didn’t bother to glance up, “Do you mind explaining why-” Mrs. Daniel stopped, and gave Kida a sideways glance. She quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him off his chair.
0---------------
an: its realllllly sad I know! I;m sorry! But I enjoyed writing it. more comin soon. fav characte rhas to be Tony. XD