Post by Kestrel on Jan 19, 2007 22:18:10 GMT -5
My original (or not so original >.> Boring idea 'n all -.-) idea...here's a sample of the prologue~
*Ashes to Ashes[/font][/size]
The City smelled of blood and fear; it was a bitter scent that rode the freezing winter wind into every shadowed back-alley and dilapidated house. It was a heartless place. Even in the height of summer, as the City simmered beneath a merciless sun, the warmth barely reached below the surface.
It was known only as ‘The City’ to its unfortunate inhabitants. Once upon a time the City was all sparkling glass and bright steel, but what was called the Ghetto –all cities had at least one, as a rule- swelled and swelled, ate up the City like some ravenous black beast, made it all the same: a great, gray, dusty ruin. The fire two years ago blew ash through the streets, painted the sides of buildings black. Even two years after, the ash still darkened the narrow avenues and deep, secret alleys.
In this place, though nothing really prospered, there was life. Not human life, not really; how they spent their dreary days could not be considered life, but instead a cruel parody of the same. No, the city was possibly the only place on Earth where the dominant race was not man, but animal.
In the City, the felines reigned.
Chrome’s howl shook the ash from the walls a block away. Stray dogs, their mangy, scraggly hides clinging to their jutting ribs, paused and raised their heads.
Steel cursed. She would know that keening sound anywhere: the voice of her youngest brother. What are you into now? She wondered, sighing softly. Her tail twitched in irritation.
Dusk was falling, and as Steel leaped to the top of the dumpster with a hollow thumping sound, the streetlights clicked on. Yellow-orange light cast a slightly sickly glow on the cat’s dark silver fur.
The shadowy, ash-colored form of the firstborn, Barbwire, appeared beside his sister. “Steel? What is it?†he asked evenly, but his orange eyes gave away his alarm.
Steel opened her mouth to answer, but before she got the chance, the third child of the family spoke up.
“You didn’t hear that?†chortled Rusted, climbing from the depths of a cast-away cardboard box with amusement flickering in his orange eyes. His fur, normally red-orange and flecked with white, appeared even darker in the dim light.
Barbwire frowned. “Hear what?†His fur bristled; more than anything, the eldest cat of the family hated to be laughed at.
Steel chuckled appreciatively, cutting her eyes at Barbwire. He was too serious, really, and on some days it got under her skin, though today all it did was amuse her and make her feel slightly sorry for him. How fun could life be if you rarely laughed?
“It was only the loudest scream ever uttered by a City cat,†meowed Rusted dryly. “Chrome’s, of course; that kitty has a voice on him that would melt iron.â€
It was the truth. When Barbwire, Steel, Rusted, and Chrome were scarcely older than kittens, living alone in the alleys, Chrome has been quite the holy terror; he was well used to Mother coddling them, and he often took to screaming if he didn’t get his way. Chrome’s screams were the stuff of legend, too: high and piercing, grating, a sound that stabbed at the ear, made headaches appear in the minds of others like magic.
Since those days, Chrome had calmed considerately, but the throat that produced those massively loud and high sounds had by no means lost their ability.
Steel and Rusted shared a fond glance, but behind them Barbwire was pacing nervously. His orange eyes had a somber, worried look.
Steel turned to watch him. “Barbwire, what?†she meowed softly, and now worry was beginning to show in her own voice. Barbwire’s instincts were good, excellent, in fact.
Barbwire met his sister’s gaze, his frown growing more pronounced. “How do you know he isn’t hurt?†said the ash-colored cat, with an air of faint amazement. Something in his voice suggested that the conclusion was obvious: Chrome screamed, Chrome was hurt.
Rusted barked out a laugh. “What, got his paw caught in a tin can? Got into a tangle with a vicious rat?†Chrome had done both things in his time, and on both occasions, a cry like the one the siblings had recently heard followed.
Barbwire lowered his head and stared at his brother. Had he been human, he would have raised one eyebrow. “If he did, who’s gonna help him, hm?â€
Chrome had a way of getting into trouble he couldn’t get himself out of.
Steel flicked Rusted with the tip of her tail. “We should turn back. We can find some food later. If Chrome’s got himself into a fight again, we’re the only ones who can back him up.â€
Rusted tilted his head in surprise, but climbed obediently down from the pile of boxes and stood on the cool concrete of the alley.
Barbwire and Steel vaulted side by side from the top of the dumpster to the ground.
“Let’s save our hopeless little brother,†Steel sighed, rolling her eyes.
The three cats, one ash-gray, one dark silver, one rust-red with white speckles, left pawmarks in the ash behind them.
*Ashes to Ashes[/font][/size]
The City smelled of blood and fear; it was a bitter scent that rode the freezing winter wind into every shadowed back-alley and dilapidated house. It was a heartless place. Even in the height of summer, as the City simmered beneath a merciless sun, the warmth barely reached below the surface.
It was known only as ‘The City’ to its unfortunate inhabitants. Once upon a time the City was all sparkling glass and bright steel, but what was called the Ghetto –all cities had at least one, as a rule- swelled and swelled, ate up the City like some ravenous black beast, made it all the same: a great, gray, dusty ruin. The fire two years ago blew ash through the streets, painted the sides of buildings black. Even two years after, the ash still darkened the narrow avenues and deep, secret alleys.
In this place, though nothing really prospered, there was life. Not human life, not really; how they spent their dreary days could not be considered life, but instead a cruel parody of the same. No, the city was possibly the only place on Earth where the dominant race was not man, but animal.
In the City, the felines reigned.
Chrome’s howl shook the ash from the walls a block away. Stray dogs, their mangy, scraggly hides clinging to their jutting ribs, paused and raised their heads.
Steel cursed. She would know that keening sound anywhere: the voice of her youngest brother. What are you into now? She wondered, sighing softly. Her tail twitched in irritation.
Dusk was falling, and as Steel leaped to the top of the dumpster with a hollow thumping sound, the streetlights clicked on. Yellow-orange light cast a slightly sickly glow on the cat’s dark silver fur.
The shadowy, ash-colored form of the firstborn, Barbwire, appeared beside his sister. “Steel? What is it?†he asked evenly, but his orange eyes gave away his alarm.
Steel opened her mouth to answer, but before she got the chance, the third child of the family spoke up.
“You didn’t hear that?†chortled Rusted, climbing from the depths of a cast-away cardboard box with amusement flickering in his orange eyes. His fur, normally red-orange and flecked with white, appeared even darker in the dim light.
Barbwire frowned. “Hear what?†His fur bristled; more than anything, the eldest cat of the family hated to be laughed at.
Steel chuckled appreciatively, cutting her eyes at Barbwire. He was too serious, really, and on some days it got under her skin, though today all it did was amuse her and make her feel slightly sorry for him. How fun could life be if you rarely laughed?
“It was only the loudest scream ever uttered by a City cat,†meowed Rusted dryly. “Chrome’s, of course; that kitty has a voice on him that would melt iron.â€
It was the truth. When Barbwire, Steel, Rusted, and Chrome were scarcely older than kittens, living alone in the alleys, Chrome has been quite the holy terror; he was well used to Mother coddling them, and he often took to screaming if he didn’t get his way. Chrome’s screams were the stuff of legend, too: high and piercing, grating, a sound that stabbed at the ear, made headaches appear in the minds of others like magic.
Since those days, Chrome had calmed considerately, but the throat that produced those massively loud and high sounds had by no means lost their ability.
Steel and Rusted shared a fond glance, but behind them Barbwire was pacing nervously. His orange eyes had a somber, worried look.
Steel turned to watch him. “Barbwire, what?†she meowed softly, and now worry was beginning to show in her own voice. Barbwire’s instincts were good, excellent, in fact.
Barbwire met his sister’s gaze, his frown growing more pronounced. “How do you know he isn’t hurt?†said the ash-colored cat, with an air of faint amazement. Something in his voice suggested that the conclusion was obvious: Chrome screamed, Chrome was hurt.
Rusted barked out a laugh. “What, got his paw caught in a tin can? Got into a tangle with a vicious rat?†Chrome had done both things in his time, and on both occasions, a cry like the one the siblings had recently heard followed.
Barbwire lowered his head and stared at his brother. Had he been human, he would have raised one eyebrow. “If he did, who’s gonna help him, hm?â€
Chrome had a way of getting into trouble he couldn’t get himself out of.
Steel flicked Rusted with the tip of her tail. “We should turn back. We can find some food later. If Chrome’s got himself into a fight again, we’re the only ones who can back him up.â€
Rusted tilted his head in surprise, but climbed obediently down from the pile of boxes and stood on the cool concrete of the alley.
Barbwire and Steel vaulted side by side from the top of the dumpster to the ground.
“Let’s save our hopeless little brother,†Steel sighed, rolling her eyes.
The three cats, one ash-gray, one dark silver, one rust-red with white speckles, left pawmarks in the ash behind them.
