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    Asylum Orphanage (My New Novel)


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    Join date : 2008-07-02
    Age : 27
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    Asylum Orphanage (My New Novel)

    Post  kazukifafner on Thu Jan 01, 2009 1:34 pm

    I'll be posting my new novel (Asylum Orphanage) chapters as they are finished. That's all for now (BTW, I don't know when chapter one will get done, lol).

    EDIT: Changed the topic title. I figured I might as well post up the first part of Chapter 1 (this isn't the whole thing, jut the first part of it). Well, here we go.


    A doctor and nurse stood talking to one another just outside the waiting room. The gray-haired man looked far calmer than the nurse who clutched a clipboard to her chest, small tears dropping from her eyes. The old doctor had seen his fair share of hardships in his time, and then some. He was use to the world's cruelty, but it would take a couple years before the new nurse would grow accustomed to working in a hospital.

    “What should we do now?” The nurse asked, her voice giving off a hesitant tone.

    “What do you mean? We have to tell him,” replied the doctor, as firm as ever.

    “How can you say that so quickly!? That boy just lost his parents, and he doesn't even know it yet!”

    “Calm down, if you cause a scene, this will be a lot harder than it already is. I don't like it anymore than you do, but it's our job. We can't have him sit there forever.”

    The man looked through the door's window into the waiting room. On the left side, sitting patiently on a gray couch, sat a boy no older than twelve. His short, white hair stood out from most of the people, though his white shirt and jeans certainly didn't. In particular, the doctor noticed the boy's emerald green eyes, or rather, the expression they revealed. He saw no trace of anxiety, fear, sorrow, or anything else. All he saw were a pair of green empty eyes that stared at the bare table in front of him.

    The doctor took one more glance at the nurse, who was visibly shaken, and said, “Very well, you don't have to do this. I'll tell him myself. Just go on with your other duties.”

    “Thank you, sir!” She said, walking away towards any task that didn't involve that kid or his deceased parents.

    With a short sigh to regain his composure, the doctor entered the waiting room. He slid a dollar bill into a nearby vending machine, and pulled a Root Beer from the flap near the bottom. He took out another dollar and got another Root Beer. The man walked over to the boy and sat down next to him on the couch. The twelve-year-old looked over at him with the same indifferent eyes that he had witnessed only moments ago. The doctor forced a smile on his face and offered one of the beverages to him, which the boy took.

    As the boy popped the tab to his Root Beer, the doctor asked him, “What's your name, son?”

    “Ised,” the boy answered plainly. Ised lifted the can to his lips and downed half of the drink in a few large gulps. He took in sharp breath when he lowered it from his mouth. The doctor sat in awe at how fast this kid began to drink it. Almost as if he hadn't had anything decent to drink in a long time. Shaking the thought from his head, the doctor continued.

    “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have some bad news.” The doctor waited for some sort of reaction, but when he didn't get one, he continued. “Son, a few minutes ago, your parents passed away.”

    Ised took a slight pause, and then brought the can up to his mouth for another drink. One swallow later, he brought it back down. Still, except for that minor pause, the boy showed no signs of emotion at all. He didn't even glance at the doctor but kept staring at the table in front of him. The old man was so surprised at this; he wasn't sure what he should say next. The best he could do was reassure him that he wouldn't have to stay in the hospital forever.

    “Don't worry, everything is set up. There's a wonderful place for you to live not too far from here. A very nice lady runs it, and I guarantee that you'll be taken care of.” He set his unopened can of Root Beer down on the table. “I'll just leave this here with you.” The doctor stood up and walked outside the waiting room, took out his cell phone, and dialed a number. It took several rings, but his call was finally answered, and a man's voice came through from the ear piece.

    “Hello?” The man began.

    “It's me,” the doctor answered. “You can pick up the boy now.”

    “How does he look?”

    “It's just as Ms. Chymhelliad predicted, this kid doesn't seem to have any feelings left. His parents must've done a number on him. I can't believe someone would experiment on their own kids like that.”

    “You realize that our group does the same thing, right?”

    “Yeah, but – at least we only take in other kids. It's just not right to – “

    “Don't start preaching about circumstance. All you're supposed to do is inform us when a potential subject shows up, nothing else. Don't get yourself involved anymore than you have to. After a certain point, you won't be able to return to the life you live now.”

    The doctor swallowed hard, “Y – yes, sir. Of course.”

    “I'll be picking him up now. I suggest you get back to your job.”

    “I understand.” The doctor hung up and quickly walked deeper into the hospital.

    * * *

    Ised stared at the Root Beer in his hand. He couldn't believe that his parents were actually dead. While he felt some sense of paternal loss, it didn't faze him nearly as much as he had expected. After the way his parents had treated him and his dead, older brother; it shouldn't be too surprising that he wouldn't be too upset. In fact, Ised felt more relief than he did sorrow. He wouldn't have to worry about his parents' experimentations any longer.

    The sound of footsteps arrested his thoughts. They were barely audible on the hospital's carpeting, but he heard them all the same. He looked up to see a middle-aged man smiling down at him, wearing a black tuxedo and driver's cap. Ised stared at the man, not sure what to make of him, then the man grabbed his hand and pulled him up to his feet.

    “It's time to go,” He told Ised, still wearing the exact same smile as before.

    “Where are we going?” Ised asked.

    “To your new home, of course. It's run by a very nice lady, and it's only a little ways away.”

    Ised realized that this was the man that the doctor had mentioned. Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded his head. The man led him out of the waiting room, past the receptionist's desk, and out into the parking lot. He was greeted by the city of Cardiff's crisp morning air. It had snowed the night before in Wales' capital, so the ground was covered in an inch of fresh, white powder.

    The only thing else that caught Ised’s eye was a crow that swooped down onto a ledge of the hospital. Ised watched it for a second before being yanked away by the man in the driver's camp. He was brought to a limousine that was just as black as that crow. The man opened the door to Ised and invited him in. After Ised climbed into the backseat, the man walked around and into the car from the driver's side, started the car, and drove out traffic.

    Ised looked out the window and watched as the cars and people passed by, each and every one of them scampering about with their daily routines. Shops lined the streets. There were pizza shops, toy stores, repair shops, antique shops, and a shop for about anything else you could think of. All of this was commonplace for Ised, who had gone down this road numerous times throughout his life. Once again, the only thing that truly caught his attention was that crow. It soared high in the sky, and kept pace with the limousine, as if to follow him.

    Ised felt a sudden jerk as the driver pulled into a small driveway that circled back to the road. They stopped at a large, Gothic gate with words worked into the architecture. They read, “Fair Lady's Hand Orphanage,” arching across the top of the gate. The driver helped Ised out of the vehicle and unlocked the gates, which swung open without a single creak, grind, or other noise. The driver took Ised by the hand and walked through.

    A cement road ran down in a straight line. On either side of him, lined up on the snow covered lawn, was a row of dead trees. The crow came to rest on one of the leafless branches and looked down at Ised. The driver saw that Ised's attention was focused on something. He turned his head in the same direction, and saw the glaring crow, as black as the snow was white.

    “You like birds, Ised?” The man asked him.

    “Not really,” came his response, “this one just won't leave me alone.”

    “Oh, surely you don't think this creature is stalking you? Don't worry; we get plenty of birds in this area. It isn't too shocking to see a crow on one of these trees, is it?”

    “I don't know.”

    The man smiled again, and they moved on. At the end of the road was a large two-story building. It looked more like a mansion than an orphanage. A pair of double-doors marked the entrance, and marble-coated bricks lined the outside. Evenly-spaced windows ran down the length of the first and second floors, and a small, circular attic window adorned the top. On each corner was a pillar that ran up the length of the building, coming to a small point at the top. The driver pulled Ised up the three steps to the three, cement steps to the orphanage's porch. He fumbled with his keys for a few seconds and unlocked one of the doors that slid open with ease.

    The inside evoked the exact opposite feeling as the exterior. Ised stepped onto the dark green carpet that ran along the floor of a small den. On his left, a modest staircase led the way to the second floor. On his right, the wall broke off into a small hallway. Across from him, was a single brown door that led deeper into the estate.

    However, what caught his attention most wasn't any inorganic furnishing, but the four other children that were already there. An orange-haired, seventeen-year-old boy sat on a gray recliner in front of the television, playing with a silver lighter in his hand. A fifteen-year-old boy sat near the stairs, staring out the window, only pausing to brush strands of black hair from his eyes. Lying on a white couch, a brown-haired girl of sixteen stared, transfixed by the ceiling. In between the recliner and the television sat a blonde, fourteen-year-old girl, bouncing a small ball against the wall.

    “I'll leave you to get acquainted,” said the man, and he left through the door at the far end of the room.

    After he left, the four teenagers continued with whatever they were doing. Ised glanced across their faces for a moment, and then walked toward the far, right corner of the room. On a small shelf, he took a 250-piece puzzle with the picture of a medieval castle and people laughing and dancing around it. He dumped the pieces on the floor and got to work. For an hour, he plugged piece after piece into one another until only one empty slot remained. He looked around for the piece, but couldn't find it. He stared at the incomplete puzzle with those steady emerald eyes until the same man came in to take him with him to answer questions.


    There it is. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


      Current date/time is Mon Mar 19, 2018 6:18 am