Can you hear the magpie? IP: 24.34.193.115 Posted on August 3, 2013 at 06:23:36 AM by Alistair
Falling. He was falling. Wind buffeting his back, blowing his shirt up around him. All he could see were clouds and the bright sun trying to peek through the gray. Arms flailing wildly. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. In his hesitation, the boy had turned around and fallen backwards rather than forwards. What had he always been told? “If you’re going to do something, do it right the first time.” Well, he’d failed that lesson. A sudden jolt ran through his body as the impact was made and then a shot of pain ran through his right shoulder. In the moment before he had hit the ground, the boy had turned his body to the right, putting his scapula to face the full force of his weight. A scream escaped the teen’s lips. Gasping through the pain and breathlessness he felt a slight smile fell upon his lips. This was it. No more pain ever again. No more nothing. He closed his eyes, waiting to feel nothingness overtake him. The boy felt liquid pooling around his head, the smell of blood filled his nose, and the sensation of fire burning his shoulder blade. No. No, this couldn’t be. He had failed himself. Couldn’t he do anything right? Why was he still alive? The boy, no more than a child just lay there, crying. Could he ever escape this hell?
Alistair woke up with a gasp. Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out, he gripped his shoulder. Fiery pain engulfed it and it throbbed. Keeping his palm over the area, ice slowly began to engulf the scapula, numbing it. As the pain lessened, Alistair melted the ice, soaking his shirt back in the process. Great. The sun wasn’t even up and already something had gone wrong. ‘No use in going back to sleep.’ he thought. ‘May as well get an early start.’ Squinting in the dim light, the teen stood, still very much tired from his short rest. The boy stretched his legs a bit, trying to avoid the chance of a cramp. Straightening once again, Alistair started his run. Knowledge of his destination was nonexistent; the 17 year old just let his legs go until they were tired. With a tall frame and long legs, traveling was easy and relatively speedy. Especially since he had no possessions to carry. As he ran, Alistair's mind wandered. Before he knew it, the sun was rising. The golden light gave his surroundings definition and he could tell what they were. Up ahead, not to far away, a great castle stood against the pale, golden sky. The teen slowed to a jog before stopping to admire the great structure. Black bangs fell over his green eye, leaving the blue on to sight the building. Blowing up his hair, Alistair nodded to himself. That was his goal. The Scottish boy continued on his run, only this time with a destination in mind. Hours passed. The sun climbed higher and higher until reaching its highest point. Anyone normal would have been sweating, but as an ice manipulator the boy stayed quite cool. Gradually the castle grew larger as the scot approached. He paused just outside the gate, pain ebbing back into his shoulder. Looking back, Alistair saw blood staining his shirt from reopened cuts. "Bloody hell." he muttered. Placing his palm onto the shoulder blade, the ice once again coated the injured area, this time appear on top of his shirt. There was nothing the boy could do about the blood, which dribbled down his back. Scaling the gates was not an option and would most likely result in death, so waiting where he was seemed like the best option to Alistair. He stayed, standing before the gates, clutching his shoulder, staring up to the massive castle. Replies: