Chapter 4

The teacher gave a clichéd first day introduction. Everything Kaden had expected. Hey, I'm Mr. Christopher. I will be teaching you English for the next four years. Maybe he was a dull guy. Kaden suspected more however. Mr. Christopher held something that had caught Kaden's captivation. The teacher was serious yet much laid back. Not willing to take exaggerated actions it seemed. The teachers Kaden had met thus far that day were middle aged people. White shirts. Ties. Dress shoes under slacks. Mr. Christopher was sloppy in a professional way. His hair was starting to thin in the front. It was brown and short. His face was typical of a man in his late twenties. A hard black shirt with a grey tie. The sleeves were chaotically rolled to his elbow, exposing his hairy arms. Black pants, brown shoes. English teacher. Man who knew his literature. Everything Kaden wanted to be. He chuckled.

    The two hour class was only in its commencing five minutes. It was a long room. Made with the intentions to house a good sixty people. It was first day. Awkward. Kaden sat in silence as did all the other students. They were a mirage of blacks and whites. Even. There were periodical yawns throughout the day. Summer had left its scars on their morale. The teacher had things ready.

    "Ok ok. Wow good class eh?" He complimented. What the hell do you expect? Bunch of kids at a new school. Don't worry. You'll hate us soon enough. "Today is going to be a bit typical. I guess you know my name. However, I have to learn over 150 names; so, I set up a little activity for today. Who wants to pass?" He shook a pile of papers over his head indicated something needed passed around. About six kids raised their hands. They were the bold ones. The ones that would give Mr. Christopher headaches in the future. He handed half of the papers to a short black boy and another to a light skinned black girl. She looked Asian though. Her eyes. They were like Willow's. Half?

    "Ok, while they're passing those out, does everyone have pencils?" A few people said yeah while everyone else shook their heads. Kaden did nothing. "Um…bad question. Lets rephrase. Who doesn't have a pencil or pen?" Kaden raised his hand along with a couple students. "No problem today…" he pulled out a fresh pack of Ticonderogas "But you're going to have to pay for these tomorrow. And forever after." Kaden sat on the far right end of the class. Of course, he got his pencil last. Mr. Christopher walked thoughtlessly over to him and handed him a pencil like nothing. Kaden wanted to cry. He didn't know for what indefinite reason. But, he was a bad kid. Mr. Christopher didn't like him now. No. Nonsense! The teacher walked back to his podium in the front.

    "When you get this put your name on it. You will see it has two little boxes at the top, and a big one on the bottom. In the first, I simply want your name." he rested his head on his hands. "Now notice around this room we have various computers. There are only ten. There are about fifty of you. Grow up. Taken turns. Ok. For the second box you will need to wait your turn and get onto a computer. Use some sort of search engine to find name meanings. Type up your name. Tell me what it means. And finally in the third box, draw a picture illustrating the meaning of your names. Not art class. Just do something simple. Go ahead." Kaden wrote his name in the first box. Neat now. He wanted to be impressive. Directly behind him was a wall. And along the wall were three computers. He was lucky and rushed to the second one.

    The class went about doing the assignment. Kaden had filled in the first two boxes. And spent the rest of the allotted time, to carefully draw a picture.

    "We're going to share now. Stop with what you have. Let's start on that end of the room." He pointed to the left side. "And we'll end up there." He pointed in Kaden's direction. "You can start." He gestured to a skinny pale girl. She wore lots of dark makeup and her hair was an artificial black. "Stand." He smiled.

    The girl got from her seat. She surely was shy. "Um…" She scratched the back of her neck. "My name is…" What the fuck his her problem? "I'm Alex".

    "What does that mean?" Mr. Christopher had forgotten to give directions for sharing before it started.

    "Defender of mankind." she spat the words rapidly and sat to avoid damaging stares.

    "Ah! Ah!" The teacher barked. "May we see your picture?" She remained seated and lifted the picture. Kaden could not see from across the room. It was just a bunch of black smears from where he sat. But someone closer to the girl could see it was a scratchy stick figure holding a sword.

 

    "Ok, last one and you may be dismissed." Kaden was cued. Eagerly he stood.

    "Hey uh…" he felt bad for decrying the first girl. I'm choking. Shit! "Uh…ok…" He giggled clumsily. "I'm Kaden, and that means Like a black bird. And uh….I just drew a little crow or something here." He pointed to his pencil sketch of a bird with dark feathers.

    "Good enough!" Mr. Christopher smiled. He dismissed the students. Kaden held importance to the words. Like a black bird. He pondered what that could mean.

-Jake T. Edmunds

Chapter 3

He woke to the sound of a screaming alarm clock, that black morning. It's painful racket echoed in sharp waves into his dreams. Dazed, he knocked the alarm off his dresser in weary attempts to end the audible irritation. First day of high school tomorrow. He spent Sunday at his grandmothers. Boy, be careful, there's whores there. He brought forth a deep giggle and ran his lean fingers through jet black hair. It was naturally straight and a little past his ears. All he bore was skin. A very thin boy. It was bizarre as a child, however now, he had a muscular tone. And he was tall. Scratching 6 feet perhaps.

    He pulled clothes on his grown body. Faded out jeans fitting fairly tight, grey shirt, and black zip up sweater with an erected collar. He looked in the mirror. Seeing his reflection was a fascinating experience for Kaden. This was him. This was what people saw. Greasy haired boy drooping over his eyes. The clothes no more contemporary than the rags he wore the previous year. But this was a new start.

"Hey Kade." He mother was downstairs on the kitchen table. Clean teeth and a radiant glow. She was better now. No more smoking. Her voice was clear. She was in school now. The irony is she majored in English.

"Morning Mom." The two embraced.

"Well, you all ready my big boy?"

Kaden giggled. "Yeah I'm all ready."

"Car." Kaden need not ask questions. The day's events were planned in his head. They traveled familiar roads in the new vehicle. Its red paint still reflected the scrutiny of bystanders. Into the city they trekked, and soon pulled up to the building he had toured and multiple occasions. It was tall, 10 floors maybe. Not a typical high school.

"Well, this is where I stop." Mother smiled. Kaden clicked open the door.

"Goodbye." He said with a sense of preparation. She gave her farewells and drove off. He cleared his throat. Alone. The only possessions were his knapsack and the clothes he carried. He was excited nevertheless. He could run into the forest of buildings stretching to blue, but he had no desire to such.

 

This was his grand entrance. Straight shoulders, puffed chest, he was ready. The orientations had taught him the routine. Ride elevators up, walk in, wait in the cafeteria until dismissed to class. He snapped his fingers as the pulley beeped passing floors. 5, this was it. Doors slid open and he walked through. He popped with each step. It was a long hallway to the cafeteria. Lots of people socialized in it. Kaden did not stop. Somber eyes followed while he gave a satisfied smirk. He was in.

Kaden could not help but feel disenchanted. The soon to be students gave him but a glance at most. He sat at an empty table in the corner and soaked in his shame. The smells of body odor and marijuana saturated the air. If it pleased him, Kaden could get a nice scan of the majority of the girl's breasts. He hated them. Den, da disease came, on us, on da city. Now, der be more smoke then air tuh breathe, more whores then mothers.

Slender arms moved down his shoulders and caressed his chest. He closed his eyes in ecstasy.

"Willow." He whispered.

"Hey Kade." A kiss on the cheek. He stood and turned to the cryptic lover. Her skin was tinted with yellow and her eyes were faintly accented with Asian heritage. Her hair was black and shiny. Her smell gave him a feeling as if his chest was filling with fluid. He wrapped his arms around her and took a deep inhale. She laid her head on his chest.

"Missed you." She sighed.

"Me too." He opened his eyes. There sat Liam. He watched with apathy defiled eyes. Liam and Willow both come from his preceding school. Liam despised Kaden. He could feel the tension when Liam was behind him. Taste the hatred. God knows for what reason. He had suspicions that Liam and Willow had a past. He didn't care. She was his now.

-Jake T. Edmunds

Chapter 2

The eyes of youth bring forth the most jocund fascinations. The fingers of trees reaching for their loves in the sky or the hawk sitting proud over its bloody kill. Young hearts take them all to mind and absorb them and become the fashioned adults. There were not many simple dull things that could dim the visage of fruitful young Kaden. Not like a visit to his grandmother. No. This was a predictable experience.

He woke to the sound of his mother's screams, that orange morning.

"Best get yo ass outa bed Kade!" it echoed in sharp waves into his dreams. Jumping, he pulled clothes over his small body and answered to his mother.

"Car." She looked at him from the kitchen table nibbling on a cigarette bearing brown teeth and wrinkled glow. Her glare said more than her limited vocabulary might ever capture. Daring not to ask questions, Kaden left the small Tudor house, and headed down their driveway to the rusting station wagon. Mother soon followed.

"Where are we going?" he asked as the engine ignited.

"We headed down south." Her voice vibrated with the sound of many years nicotine.

And so they drove into areas Kaden had never beheld. Into the vigor of unknown highways where soon they were the only car. Here, they were the taboo beings, motor echoing through the fields and forests on each of their sides. Perhaps the beasts watched and felt sympathy for the wandering strangers. Mother lit the fifth cigarette during the hour and counting drive. Kaden decided he could speak an hourly question.

"Where are we going?" he broke the awkward silent drone. Mother sighed.

"Dammit Kaden." She inhaled. "Mama's gotta meetin wit someboedy. We aint go no one tuh look afta you. You're going tuh spend some time with yo grammy." Kaden did not remember his grandmother. She was never mentioned. He came to the finis that she did not exist.

"I never met her."

"You know damned well you met her. Grammy jus got sick for a while. She betta now though."

"What did she have?"

"She had the brain sickness." They continued the drive in frustrating silence until his mother made a neck snapping turn onto a dirt road. Dust matted with the air around them as they drove in a compassionate swirl. The road was a quarter mile orbit around a grey house. It was small, but with the intimidation of a ghouls dwelling.

"Dis where she live." Mother spit a smoldering cigarette butt out the windows, with potential for fire in the bush. No care. They pulled up swiftly. "Jus ring da bell." She waited. Kaden was left assuming to leave the vehicle.

"Bye." He said softly and perplexed.

"Later." She pulled off rapidly leaving him to inhale the exhaust and dust. He cleared his throat. Alone. He had no possessions with the concession of clothing. Nonetheless, he would rather face the open country with nothing then summon whatever lived within the domicile. It had black stains as if ink was thrown over the house. They were faded and translucent allowing the old white paint to be perceived. This gave the house a dusty guise. Forest stretched to blue in all directions. Nowhere to disappear except the obscurity of the forests.

"My name is Kaden." The young person would finally endeavor the events of sounding the bell. There she went. Stood. There was a white dress, violet flower laden, draped over her sagging body. A granny face exhaustedly resting on a skinny neck. And she just watched with grey eyes. Maybe hard at hearing?

"My name is Kaden." He said louder.

"Shuddup. I know ya boy." She said bitterly. She spoke like Mother only with a dire elegance. He liked her. "Come in boy. We is gonna sit an' talk." She turned with impressive promptness for a what?...80 year old? Kaden followed into the house. She was already out of sight. There was an odor of moth balls. Plastic birds polluted the shelves on baby blue walls.

"Come on boy. Come on boy. Come the fuck on boy!" her voice came softly and heartening and heightened to an exasperated shriek. She was up the hall and to the right. He heard. He found her in a back room. It was a simple square. She sat, in purgatorial stasis in the corner to his right. There was a window by her face. She rocked in the chair, peeping out the window. It did not reveal much. The stems of a few trees, crows landing pulling fated worms from their lairs. Kaden sat across from her in the parallel chair.

"I am so glad you's came tuday." She turned and smiled. "Whaddoo you drink?"

"Cola."

"Water?"

"That's fine. Thank you." She never got the drinks. Continued staring at him. Gaunt face and trembling jaw looked as if she were chewing on air.

"Boy!" Kaden jumped at her sudden scream.

"Yes?"

"Do ya know whatta whore is boy?"

"No."

"Your mother's one." She crossed her pale legs. "Probably with some pitiful man right bout now." She gawked out the window for a few seconds. "She do it for you though. So don't be upset. It's for you. All for you. She'd be dead otherwise. Rather'd die." Kaden didn't know what to say. He didn't know what she meant. He didn't understand the word.

"It's nice to meet you." She smiled again. Her tone altered within the minute. "Let me know about ya." Stillness followed.

"My name is Kaden."

"We have established as much." Her brow lifted. "How old?"

"I'm eight"

"Anything else?" Kaden couldn't think. Life was simple for him. Wake up, school, play once at home.

"My mother's a whore." He offered a contrived grin. His grandmother smiled and released a slew of hysterical laughter and it ended in phlegm filled coughs.

"You're funny boy." She caught her breathe and Kaden smirked.

She calmed for the rest of the stay. No sudden bursts. Only cynical tranquility.

"It's upsetting all the whores. I member when I was your age. Had that tiny voice. I lived in your city. I has to live out here now though. But it wus a great place. Me and mah friends would always go to movies and Broadway. You never see one piece of rubbish on the streets. Women was at home cookin, not on da corners." She looked at him waiting for a response. He only gave her his riveted attention. "Den, da disease came, on us, on da city. Now, der be more smoke then air tuh breathe, more whores then mothers."

"I don't think it's that bad."

"I tell you boy…" she ignored his comment. "There be a change coming. There's gonna be a mass cleansing. And it ain't like we don't need it neither."

"When?"

"Whenver." And this was how it went. Kaden began to feel adoration to his grandmother and they built a friendship. Between them, awkwardness was abolished. They became dysfunctional kin. Mentor to follower. His mother would take him almost every other week as his mother only worked once between the two.

"That's cuz she's a whore. Makes it all in one night."

"Yes."

Kaden grew…

-Jake T. Edmunds

Chapter 1

Entering the room now gave Mr. Christopher the sense of regret he had been hoping would not enter the soul. It was indeed a path painted with graves. There was an elusive smell of iron lingering within the air he inhaled.
The room had its own colors that were drowning in the threatening red. The violent hues would forever bathe the mind of Mr. Christopher. The smell and the red however, shattered as the countenances of teenage cadavers looked into the dead gaze of Mr. Christopher. The faces each formally had spoken to him, but now he loved them more than his average fidelity.
A clatter caused the focus on his apprentices to falter. As the vertebrate in his neck turned, a bitter chill consumed them. His eyes brought forth an ebony figure standing idle on one of the tables. It’s back facing away from Mr. Christopher as the moonlight through blood stained glass embellished the wraith in macabre beauty. Mr. Christopher took a faint step closer to the cloaked creature.
“What is it that you want?” he spoke sternly trying to refrain from abetting the figures intentions. He stopped a few paces behind the table that the creature now used as a pedestal. There was a ghastly stillness tainting Mr. Christopher’s confidence. To the surprise of the teacher, the dark existence began to turn to face him. In place of a face, there lay a white mask. Dark chasms were cut into the mask resembling the frowning face of tragedy. There existed to clairvoyance between the two and Mr. Christopher came to the conclusion that it was a man; or a shadow of a man in the least. He was no longer afraid.
Tragedy lifted its arms and spread them apart as if accentuating the corpses. “Do you answer my question?” Mr. Christopher asked. The frowning face moved up and down in agreement.
“Who are you?”
Tragedy tilted its head like a canine that has been offered something exciting. It knew not what Mr. Christopher had asked. For the shadows of men go by no names.
“Who is your host perhaps?” he commanded. Tragedy stoop up straight and lifted his arms, draped in coal fabric, to their respective sides. The gesture had left Mr. Christopher in a state of awe; however the meaning of the action could only be left to conjecture. The seconds following were volatile and the cold claws of anxiety wrapped once again around his emotions.
Tragedy began to vigorously flap his arms in unearthly grace like a creature that flew. Up and down they went, and Tragedy lifted its face towards the ceiling as if in pleasure. After a captivating display, the flapping came to an abrupt halt, and the white mask looked upon Mr. Christopher’s face once more.
“Do you answer my question?” Mr. Christopher asked once more. The forlorn face slowly ascended and lowered back to center in a nod of understanding. Mr. Christopher fell to his knees in despair. He was enlightened to the name of the ghostly figure that stood before him and it slew him,
For my friends…
… alliance by name, is a malicious affiliation.
He closed his eyes and whispered, “…Like a blackbird.” A tear dripped from the slit of closed eyes.
A sharp pain in the back was the end of Mr. Christopher.

-Jake T. Edmunds

So that was Chapter 1
Everyone questions its meaning and relevance
Trust me,
This is just a cool intro that was meant to be confusing, however it will make sense as you go
Any comments? Questions?
Leave your feedback

-Jake

This is my story...

As of now I call it Kaden's Musical but I highly doubt that will be the finished project's title.

These are my rough drafts and I REALLY want some feedback and advice and ways I can IMPROVE it.

Please give honest feedback showing good things and things that need improving that I'm sure you expect from myself.

I will post the first chapter (It's already on our main page) today in class and probably a few more afterwards.

The first couple chapters are boring but I promise it will lift up soon.

Thanks,

-Jake