The Metal Children

Sneek Peak: The Gold Child - Prologue

It was a rainy night at East City. Heavy downpour crashed against the roof of the bungalow like the sound of rattling pebbles. It was definitely cold, but despite the comfortable temperature, Adib tossed and turned in his queen-sized bed, unable to fall asleep at all. He sat up, and switched on the little lamp by his bedside, which had brightened the entire bedroom.

Adib's bedroom was as large a standard master bedroom, although it wasn't — the master bedroom of this house belonged to the Silver Child of East City, Ikhwan. It could fit two to three people, but Adib wasn't very much a fan of sharing. His love for privacy was made evident by the personalized decorations on his bedroom wall — posters of indie bands hung like wallpapers, a collection of various Coca Cola cans and bottles in a glass cabinet, and a blue bass guitar in it's stand at the corner of his room. It was, however, very neat, thanks to Azie, the housekeeper.

Adib tossed his thick duvet aside and left his bed, his long toes extended as his feet touched the cold carpet. Adib is a man of his mid-twenties and stood skinny and lanky at a fair Asian height. He had tanned skin and sunken round eyes with dark irises, and his hair was trimmed short with longer bangs that covered his wide forehead. He nose was sharp and his cheeks were bony. He was always naturally skinny, despite being a heavy eater. It was probably because of his habit of puffing no less than five cigarettes per day — they say cigarettes pulls your weight away. Still, he wished he could have a little more flesh, so he didn't appear so small in his clothes.

The long corridor outside Adib's bedroom was often this dim at night, although little wall lamps illuminated the wall every five metres. The entire house was always this dark at, it was almost oddly unpleasantly mysterious. Although he didn't really favour the interior of the house itself, he had grown accustomed to the ridiculous layout and decoration of the house. When he arrived at the house ten years ago, it was nearly the same as what he had seen these days — interior that resembled mansions of rich European families from the Renaissance era. There were other five doors sharing the same hallway — two on his side of the wall and three on the opposite side. They led to spare bedrooms, and one of them, it's doorknob long untouched, was one of his housemates, Izzee. She hadn't came home since six months ago, and the silence on this side of the hall is rather agonizing.

The end of the corridor met with another one in horizontal. It was walled with a long, polished wooden balustrade ahead, which lead to the wide staircase that splayed out like it had belonged to royalty. The ground floor ahead of him was a very well-kept foyer — tapestries hung on the wall for reasons he will never be interested in understanding, and wooden cabinets laid against the walls. There was a fireplace — the one thing they had never needed, but Adib had assumed that it was long installed along with the construction of this house, presumably two or three generations ago. A set of white royalty sofa set laid in front of the fireplace like it was meant for guests, circling a low black coffee table. The rug underneath the furniture set was creamy white, as if it was brushed and cleaned every single day, leaving to chances for dust to reside. A large chandelier hung elegantly from the ceiling, which was painted to match the colour of the sky.

Adib carried his barefooted feet down the staircase — it was as cold as every other parqueted floor in the house. He was thankful that the kitchen was the only room in the house with marble flooring, and even so, the kitchen always had a supply of slippers he could use in it. Adib walked towards the opening that was on the right of the staircase, leading him towards the dining hall of the house.

The dining hall was no smaller than his own bedroom. A long dining table laid across the room with about eighteen wooden chairs with cushions of the English flower motives. Decorative candle holders and vases of bright chrysanthemum flowers were arranged neatly in a line on the dining table, and at one end, sat a girl in silvery white hair and thick black sweatshirt. Her hair was bundled in a high bun, and her thick lips were puffy and pink in contrast of her fair white skin and her faded freckles. There were stains of white flour on her black sweatshirt, and as Adib entered the dining hall, she lifted her chin up, and glanced at Adib through her narrow eyes.