The Chronicles of The Winged: Prophecy

Part One

So this is my new story that I am actually seriously thinking of getting published if it ends up good enough!!! So if you like it I really need a comment or vote or both to represent the fact. Also because it will be published (hopefully :P) I am asking you post any criticism. I'll do my best with grammar and spelling however i realize that is not my strong point so you don't have to bother reminding me about it...

 And in case you didn't get it...its about angels! :O Gasp!

thanks a lot you readers!

 P.S.- ET to the right, Katy Perry and really describes this book a little later on in the adventure! I cant wait to post it though so make sure you give th youtube box thingy a click! :P And the picture is sort of how I imagined Lee...you can imagine her anyway u want! lol :P

FACEBOOK PAGE TO THE RIGHT...CLICK THE EXTERNAL LINK AND LIKE THE BOOK'S PAGE FOR ME!

READ COMMENT VOTE FAN

Gavin:D

1.

A light, cool breeze ruffled the top of my head, blowing bits of hair in all directions, as the air blew through the crack in the window. I squinted trying to get the sleep from my fuzzy, tired eyes. A cool feeling rippled through my arm, traveling from my shoulder which was pressed against the cold steel wall of the bus as I leaned against it in a vein attempt at being comfortable. My backpack was squashed beneath my hip, my legs curled up to my chest. As I came more to being awake, I strained my head up over the back of the seat in front of me.

Shifting my position in my seat so that I sat cross legged, I unzipped the small top compartment of my bag. Pulling out my phone I quickly opened it in my fingers, letting the home screen flicker to life as the loading bar popped up, informing me it was preparing to start the device. I sighed impatiently, keeping a firm grasp on the small phone in my hand as I took another glance around the bus.

It was all steel walls, a tunnel shape, with an arched ceiling above me and well cushioned seats. They were a light blue and purple. On the back of each seat was a small television screen so that the person behind you could do something on the tiny touch screens. I stole a glimpse at the screen placed in front of my seat, farthest from the isle on my bench for two, but only occupied me. It was a small rectangular sheet of whatever TV screens were made of and stared blankly back at me, nothing dancing across it's black screen.

It mirrored what stood before it, in this case me and my single bag. I examined myself more closely. I had always been the outcast at all the schools my father had sent me to so far. Each year it was a new boarding school, whether it be because of me failing, too drastically or for me getting in trouble, but each year a new place with new faces to laugh at me, torment me. I was bullied, made fun of because of how I was too quiet or because of my style, how I looked. I rarely ever got close to people.

My mother left me and my father when I was but an infant, leaving my Father, the only person I ever looked up to, to nurse a small child, while run his extremely large industry. Instead of doing both he took the easy way out. Got me nanny after nanny and when I was old enough to start school, shipped me off to a boarding school, where I would stay until Christmas break. Then I would return home for a single week to visit him and we'd catch up on each other's latest exciting news. After, I'd be shipped back to my school and not see him until August. When summer came around the bend I would go with some cousin I had to spend July at her cottage with her family and then back to my Father's amazing, huge, house in California.

His main office was in New York, and he mostly spent his time at our family penthouse suite in some gigantic hotel near his building. He was a very important, rich, busy man and had no time for me. I often thought I was a mistake. I doubt I was ever really meant to be born into the world. Probably just a simple mishap. Just a bump in the road. That's most likely why my mother left as well.