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A Flawed Tale

By: Misunderstood14

Page 1, What I am posting here is something that is an extremely rough draft of what I am currently working on in my free time. No proofreading, editing, revising has taken place and I type this when I am bored, have free time, feel inspired or working on going to sleep. So constructive criticism is wanted, but with that being said please don\'t be to harsh. I want to expand on the ideas I have on my mind into something that is viewed as a flawed tale. That there are visible mistakes in the plot line to show that the narration is viewed as being flawed. I choose this because I am a flawed person and that it effects me in what I write. Again please don\'t be extremely harsh on me, but I want the criticism so I can grow as a writer.

Jet black feathers fall down from a moonlit sky as a small jet of blood mingles with the falling feathers. A man lying face down on the ground, but this man is unlike others. The man that is face down on the ground has a deep gash in his back right in between his shoulder blade, on the right side. The left side a visible wing that is bloody and bullet ridden. Small bullet holes can be visible over the black wing and a much bigger hole is also visible. It seems it was from a shotgun spray or a higher caliber bullet. The man on the ground seems to still be breathing, but he’s steadily losing blood from the bullet holes in his wing and from the several that pierced his body. The wing that should have been in between his right shoulder blade was ripped off and discarded two blocks south from his current position. The men and women that surround this “Fallen Angel” are laughing and cheering for his death. Why you ask? It’s simple they are simply jealous that he shares this supposed blessing with a mere thousand others. This supposed blessing is a curse to those that bear these wings. The people that hunt us down call us “The Forever Fallen” while we, as in the several hundred that are left out of the thousands call ourselves “The Lost Kin.”

*BANG*

A single shot is heard as an audible and final gasp is heard, the man’s body stops moving all together. A single gunshot to the back of the head, as you can probably guess…execution style. The man laying down on the ground is just simply dead, but his wing on the other hand, it smolders dully and faintly. The group of men and women rush forward trying to from the looks of it salvage the wing before it disintegrates. This includes flaying the dead man open and tearing the wing from a socket that resides behind the shoulder blades. However, the wing is already lost to them as soon as the smoldering begins. All that they have worked for is gone. It’s sad really. Killing a man over petty jealousy, a man that could have had a wife, child, pets, or some unfinished obligation.

Personally I didn’t know the man, but what I do know is that he was a dumbass and that is why he was killed. He was not as cautious as the several hundred of us that are left. He tried to live a normal life, whatever that is nowadays. He went out when those hunters were surveying the block in hopes of one of us. He was untrained in self-defense, he carried no weapons, and simply put he was a dumbass for thinking that he would be spared the same cruel deaths that my brothers and sisters have suffered. This is where I come into the picture. I am simply someone that looks out for his own kind and the rest of the society known as humans. You could also say I am someone that hunts the hunters and avenges my fallen comrade in a war that we didn’t look for, but hold that thought you have… Things are about to get fun.

Chapter 1

An Introduction Is Required

Ah so I see you are interested in what I have to written down. As you read this tale of sorts you will see that this is a tale isn’t considered “the normal”. You see I am a protector of sorts as well as a traitor of sorts as well. Let me introduce myself personally because at the end of the day I am writing this on scraps of paper I scavenge throughout my little town that I shall keep anonymous in a nation that doesn’t exist. How does that sound to you? Because as you can read from the introduction we have a mutation that stayed within the city rather than spread like a wildfire to the surrounding cities. I should give my name right? Well it’s Jaysn. Happy? No? To damn bad. The nature of what I have to write is firsthand experience and generally my daily life summed up. From scribbling onto a shirt tag, used napkin, or the shirt of one of my targets that is stained with blood. I offer onto you the reader my experiences as I live them. If this tale stops so suddenly it means I ran out of things to write this down on or most likely I was killed by a pack of cowardly hunters.

The Fallen Kin were originally humans taken from death row, life in prison with no chance of probation, and lack of a better term, hopeless lives and put into what would be considered a scientific study center, which in turn just turned out to be a place where experiments were conducted. The expirements that were conducted here were originally used to modify the human body to be more durable, strong, etc. This was done through genetic mutations at first. The offspring of those that were genetically modified were the true test subjects.

These children that were born in the experimental facility were for the most part non-existent. The outside world never knew they existed

(Filler spot, going to come back and add on or take off later on down the road. Comments would be welcomed on how I should continue from here)

Chapter 2

Every Ending Needs a Beginning

A glare can be seen from the top of a bell tower that resides on the outskirts of an unnamed town. This Bell tower is in the middle of a quarantined zone of what was supposed a radiation leak, but it was just an excuse the government of an unnamed nation gave to the public so that they wouldn’t go snooping. This bell tower was the best vantage point one could get. The view spanned for tens of miles. To the untrained eye they could possibly at most a five or so miles, but to me this is my home away from home.

The men and woman that are around the now flayed and extremely dead man are complaining about another wing is lost. A red dot hovers over the skull of the man with his back exposed to me. Breathing three times slowly and then holding my breath I steady the rifle that is currently hidden from the view of anyone that looks up at the tower. The barrel is stuffed between the gaps that naturally occurred as the bell tower aged over the years. From here the reticle that I am looking down I see the back of an unknown man’s head. A killer that is about to be killed. Letting out my held breath I press my cheek further down to the stock of the gun making sure that my aim is correct. I breathe in one more time and hold it. My finger squeezes the trigger. It happens in a fraction of a second. The man crumbles. His friend on the other hand is sprayed with the skull fragments that just so happen to pierce their face and temporarily blind them. The shot was suppressed. The gun I am currently using happens to be a semi auto. Breathing slowly again I take out the knee of each of the killers as they attempt to hide or run away. Each of them immobile due to a shattered knee cap or femur, but honestly it doesn’t matter to me. I stand up from my perch and stretch as if I was laying down for hours. Walking down the cracked and somewhat broken steps of the bell tower I make my way to the prey that I had recently disabled.

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