WIP - Incomplete Start

There was no lack of rain that day, streaming endlessly down the pale, gleaming windows, darkened around the edges, only illuminated by a pair of bright, glowing eyes. They were pale and sickly, but bright and intense, filled with the naiveté of a child barely old enough to be deemed fit for the public consumption. And yet this child did not go outside, not in all of his twelve short years. These precious treats of being able to come even upstairs in the great, hollowed out mansion that was snugly hidden in a crevice in the mountains were the only outside exposure he had ever had. The subject's name was unknown, the man in charge – a pale, thin and grabby, spider-like sort of fellow with slim glasses perched on the end of his large, obtrusive nose, strands of long, greasy black hair falling in disarray about his aging face – seemed to prefer it this way. One was kept where no one else even knew of his existence, the other was now out, given to the world to be its keeper.

Coughing once, the pale eyes continued to watch, scarred, taped up hands ended in bony, underfed fingers betraying further that he was literally swallowed by the yellowing backwards gown he wore, bare feet covered with equally large, thick socks.

The rain was quite noisy tonight and he seemed positively entranced, barely breathing in a methodical, raspy tone, his tiny fingers resting on the pale, dusty windowsill as he gazed up, as if seeking to find the words written by the rain. Wrinkling a pale, tubed and taped nose, he rubbed compulsively, picking at a notable scab upon his left cheek, trying to peel away the irritation, only succeeding in smearing blood down his cheek. A low whine was emitted and he stopped playing with his aggravated skin, a soft noise of confusion escaping as he watched a single thing – a bug, he recalled it was – buzzing noisily in the uppermost corners of the sill, trying to escape. Now all attention was focused on the wayward fly that had somehow gotten caught in the most inopportune of places – unable to leave, unable to fly anywhere though it sensed the world outside with its great tastes and pleasures. It was too dark to see, but somehow the boy was quite certain in his own head that it was a bright, annoying bottle-green color, darkening out from the center, the fat abdomen wriggling vigorously as it struggled to fly, now and then pausing to taste with its feet.

The spastic behavior of the fly, the irritating buzz caused a peculiar reaction – one very much akin to any sort of predatory, curious animal's. The tiny boy began to struggle, seeking to clamber onto the chilly sill with his scabby knees and capture the tiny thing with a set of fascinating things – wings.

Breathing heavily, his highlighted, unkempt black hair shone almost a silver color in the dim light, the glowing eyes a dancing blue, broken fingertips thudding weakly against the glass in his repeated attempts to grab the bug that was still too high up. In fact, the entire thing was so far away and yet to him it was only a few inches out of reach. Just a little...just a little...

With a display of perfect carelessness, he stood and slipped, tumbling backwards and landing with a loud noise on the floor. Air forced out of his lungs, there was a loud, pained gasp as he prepared to shriek – but no noise ever came out.

His hand reached up towards the fly again, the incandescent greens that decorated the little terror were gone. The fly was gone. The wings were gone. Still, he groped the air, seeking that which was not there until a light from an opening door illuminated his scraggly, pitiful figure before it was covered up again by an entering figure, the back hunched slightly, the gleam of glasses familiar.

A single noise of displeasure and the frail child was suddenly not so frail, leaping to his feet and hissing like a wild animal caught in a cage, a deer caught in a pair of headlights as he squared himself off against an older man with greasy black hair and unfriendly features.

“So you're here; good, we're going now then, I've got things to attend to, not chasing after you all the time -” it was the same as always. Acting as if he was never really there, just a small thing that was supposed to follow whatever he said. He was an adult so of course one must do those things, but he didn't like this adult, nor the logic that came with the problem of being a child. He didn't like any of them but he especially didn't like this one. This one with a leering smile and long,wriggling hands liked to have him held down and stick sharp things into him until he screamed and screamed. There were no hugs, no stories, no good attention from anyone here.

Well, that wasn't quite true, you see, there had been a man once, this monster's partner, both working together on very complex things the boy was sure he would never understand fully so he hadn't bothered to pay attention to it, being a child. That man had been somewhat nice, almost...fatherly, or at least the closest thing to it, their interactions having been very few, not to mention he had no idea what a father really was expect for what he'd read in his very big books. He had spent more time with his other, the one this man had sent away many long years ago when the two of them had been quite small.

Shuffling his feet for a moment, the deer-child moved carefully towards the door and the frightening man with the glasses and obtusely large nose, shrinking at the ripples of his long white coat and badge with a particularly unpleasant picture of the man himself on it above a bunch of important, dark letters and his illiterate signature. It also had a peculiar back to it, like a ripple of lines, making the boy thing of the blinds when the sun streamed through them, but in varying thicknesses. He knew somehow this thing was special and caused the doors on the lower levels of the facility buried beneath the mansion to open and dull the screams of the sleeper in the basement.

Plodding his way quietly, his near weightless form looked as if it would blow over at any given time, or be bowled over by even his equally thin, unpleasant, elderly companion.