The Journey of Byron Kiers

Untitled Part 1

PROLOGUE

Nothing of much interest ever happened in his town or his life or at least it didn't until he decided to make a change in the dead-end direction his life was heading .His name was Byron Kiers and he is of an age that is not of major importance but suffice to say he was neither boy nor man at least not yet.
Tonight's decision was a calculated one he had thought long and hard about the steps he was about to take and the journey he had embarked on.
With a smile of forced emotion he turned slowly in his seat until he faced the girl before him, she was sedated and secured to a chair and her Brown hair hung limply in front of her face obscuring not only her beauty but the reddening around her eye that his well-aimed fist had made.

The feel of her cheekbone cracking under his fist was satisfying and released all the fear and trepidation that had been coiled inside his head, his fist had throbbed for a minute or so but had been replaced by a dull ache which was mildly uncomfortable but he mused considerably less pain than the girl in the chair silent and unaware of both her surroundings and her fate was in.

He had prepared his tools with a precision that both surprised and concerned him as he was never the most meticulous person often being chastised by his mother for his slovenly manner. However she had been dead for a year now and although her voice sometimes interrupted his thinking he was well aware that her days of alcohol fueled motherhood were long ago and far far away.

The girl stirred and tried in vain to lift her hands from the chairs arm rests oblivious to the industrial tape that bound her, she lifted her head slowly and blew the hair than hung limp in front of her face. The moment of realization that appeared upon her face filled Byron with a feeling of effortless power a realization of the complete and utter control he himself possessed of her life and more importantly his JOURNEY!!!!

                                                                                     Chapter One

His life began as many others have, expelled into the sterility of a hospital delivery room covered in blood and screaming as his new body hit the uncontaminated air on that cold December morning.

His mother was alone in the delivery room no expectant father pacing anxiously outside no family to comfort her, The baby's father had long since disappeared into places unknown not that it concerned him at this precise moment.

His life, from information gleaned later on was uneventful, the usual childhood ailments occurred as they do in the millions of children born every year. He was named Byron after the much maligned and celebrated romantic English poet whom apparently his mother was very fond of. .This in later life he found both to be untrue and totally incredulous.

The first clear memory he recalled was of the traditional first day at school the majority of the other children were crying and clinging to their mothers in some kind of separation base anxiety dance. He himself took no part in this ritualized separation and instead walked towards the Victorian school entrance without looking back his face free from tears, even at this young age he felt different he felt calm and a look of contentment was just visible to anyone who was watching.