The wind was whipping at my bare cheeks making them raw. The snow drifted silently in beautiful patterns to the ground. My small feet stood gingerly on top of the thick blanket of white, oblivious to the cold and the possible need for boots. I jumped lightly onto the ice and stared at my reflection. My black clothes brought out my deathly-pale face. The hood of my hoodie wrapped around my head, hid my spiky, soft, and jet-black hair. My eyes were what stood out, full of sadness. The brown of my eyes looked warm and inviting compared to this cold desert.
I was trying to deny it, but deep down I knew the inevitable. I was badly lost. What made it worse was that I didn't know why. I had no memory of anything. Forcing my sleek, black wings to extend, I gently flew up the never-ending cliff face.
My instincts are fairly sharp and suggest that I've been flying for an hour and a half. I'm bored already so I half walk up, half fly, at a horizontal angle to the rough surface of this barrier. I finally find a cave. I gather some wood from my backpack and let my burning hand kindle it.
I think I forgot to mention that the only things I know are about my wings, my power over fire and my name and age. I've not talked to another human since I can remember. Even with my brilliant eye sight and excellent hearing I can't see or hear anything other than my own movements.
I pull away my hood and brush some snow off my hair; my hands linger over the pointed tips of my ears. I've read a lot, but from what I've read I only share this characteristic with the amazingly brilliant likes of Thranduil and Legolas. As for my fire power, I've read of Leo Valdez. I look up to him, he's like me. Although I don't remember being in the company of anyone else I have a feeling in my gut that I'm going to be a seventh-wheel like Leo. I suppose that's why I like being called Leo. Not that anyone's around to call me that. I don't have Leo's ability to touch something and feel the mechanisms but I am good at fixing things. I fiddle a lot too.
From my reading, I think I like the idea of fictional characters more than humans. I suppose you can't call me human but I don't care to argue. Humans are cruel and don't listen to each other enough. I've read of the horrors of things such as Auschwitz and Stalin's treatment of others. I cried so much at the descriptions of Auschwitz, the treatment of the twins especially. I think that must be why I'm sure that I have a twin out there somewhere. I want to believe I have a twin, but it's so difficult when I can't see anyone else or even hear anyone. I suppose I'll find out soon enough though.
My fire does little to light up the cave and the falling snow outside has brought night quicker than usual. I'll read for a bit before I go to sleep, to give me an escape from this terrible loneliness. I can't describe it to you well enough. I feel like I'm a machine, devoid of anything else, an aching hole consuming me with the blackness of my lonely situation.
I pull The Lord of the Rings out of my bag. I've read it so many times, but I love re-reading it. Maybe because it's a good book and hits my heart, but more likely because I'm desperate to have a purpose. I need to be needed. I can't go on living like this, away from everything and everyone, by myself until I leave all ability to feel behind and come to despise whatever or whoever put me here. I love the smell of the crispy pages as I flick through them gently; sniffing them like it's a drug.
My eyes begin to droop with the dimming light, so I lovingly place my book back and curl up around it. My knives tucked secretively in a strap around my chest. I slip one out and can't hold back a gasp. I've seen them so much, but I can't believe how beautiful they are. They aren't really cutting knives, more like long fighting knives. I caress the handle, the smooth wood running underneath my fingers. The deep grooves show where someone carved my name in Tolkien-elvish and melted a little gold inside. The long blade reminds me of descriptions of elvish blades, words lining the middle of the double-edged tooth. I think they were designed to be like Aragorn's blade.
YOU ARE READING
Alone in a Busy World
FantasyA young boy with talent is searching for his memories. When he recovers them, he's not sure if he'll be able to keep going. With the help of a kind wolf he finds a loving family and sets out to destroy the group that destroyed his life.
