AKA: Trash

Gavril

Author's Note: This story was an attempt to write something that was about a boy who grew up to be his evil, sadistic thing that takes over Earth, despite good people trying to stop it from happening. I love it when things aren't perfect. This story is extremely old. I'd say, 7yrs old to be exact. This is a newer copy of it actually and doesn't even come close to how much I wrote in the old version (which has about 10 chapters).

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Chapter One: Stay Calm

Gavril was never a fan of alarm clocks. In fact, he hated them. They were an annoying invention that’s sole purpose was to crusade against sleep and most probably wipe it out entirely. That’s why he didn’t own one. Unfortunately he owned something much worse.

“In the mornings you may feel sleepy, you may not want to get up, but that’s ok. Nothing is wrong about not wanting to get it. But you have to and when you do, don’t make it a big deal. It’s only getting up right?” A “soothing” laugh played, “Time to wake up! Open your eyes and breath in and out slowly.”

Yes. Gavril found the supposedly soothing voice of the recorded woman worse than an alarm clock. He threw his blanket off of him and sat up. His bedroom was enveloped in darkness. Once he was standing he reached up and stretched, every bone in his body popping and cracking into relaxation.

It didn’t last long however.

His door swung open and light pooled in. A woman stood in the doorway.

“Gavril! It’s your first day of school and you aren’t even ready!” She hissed.

He rolled his eyes. She was being dramatic, as usual.

His mother’s face looked at him, disapproval evident. “When I next come up here you’d better be fully clothed. And I do mean fully.” she bit out.

Gavril sighed. “Okay mom. Just close the door already.” He snapped.

She complied and left him in his once again darkened room. He sighed and turned on his light. It was dull and gave everything an orange tinge. Across from his bed he made his way to his closet and slid open its door.

Most of his tops were shades of yellow, his favorite color. He pulled out a long sleeve top and tossed it on his bed. Next he pulled out a pair of acid-washed skinny jeans and tossed them next to his shirt. Remembering his mother’s reminder, Gavril also pulled out a grey winter vest. Before gathering his showering items he looked at his windows. When he was satisfied that the curtains were covering the windows completely he proceeded to his bedroom’s bathroom.

After being cleaned thoroughly he brushed his umber hair and tied it in a ponytail. It was a short one, but it kept his hair out of the way. Once he was clean completely, hygienically, he pulled the tight yellow shirt over his torso and the acid-washed jeans over his legs. Gavril grabbed his vest and prepared himself to go into the hallway.

The light stung his eyes and he squinted to keep the offending rays at bay when he opened his bedroom door. He cursed his bright house under his breath before walking down the wooden stairs.

Once he reached the bottom he had had more than enough of the light, “Mom!” Gavril barked, “Why is every goddamn window open!?” he chastised rudely.

When he didn’t hear a reply he stalked his way through the richly decorated parlor, dining room and into the kitchen.

“Mom!” he barked again.
His mother was humming and chopping onions. Her chocolate hair tumbled down her shoulders but were kept away from her face by a red headband. She was wearing a red dress and white pumps. Classical music played in the background and Gavril realized it was Tchaikovsky which relaxed him slightly.