Writing The Wake of Buzzards

[Vicky]

[CENTER][B]Prelude to the Sound of Birds.[/B][/CENTER]

[SIZE=1][align=justify]I am Dare Maratine, and I chose to live life.

There’s something strange about human beings. All we ever seem to do is complain, rather than making a difference ourselves. We sit and sulk, wasting precious minutes of our lives, knowing we may die the next day. Some people call me a trouble maker, but I call myself a buzzard; all natural, choosing to live life rather than dwell in self-pity like the rest of the population. I live everyday on the edge of forever, in rain or shine, night or day. I’m never alone in my adventures, thankfully, and I have my faithful friends beside me at every moment. Four of them, in fact.

When we were eight years old we would travel to the local shop and buy ourselves some slush puppies, drinking as fast as we could until we were on the ground with an onslaught of brain freeze. When we were ten years old we were throwing ourselves down steep hills on motorbikes and skateboards, injuring ourselves to an extent our parents couldn’t believe. When we were twelve, we were out drinking with eighteen year olds; hanging around in places no man dared dream of going, losing our spare change in the gutters of Madchester. When we turned fifteen, we were over the edge. And we stayed there for four years until we were old enough to buy our own place, which we shared for a low budget price.

Perhaps I should introduce my friends. Well, we live in a small two bedroom apartment, with dank white walls, posters and writings scratched into the plaster. We have two beds in each room, a kitchen that seems to be a constant mess and a TV that barely works, but we get by.

The man over in the kitchen sat at the table with the red liberty spikes and the black leather jacket is Johnny Nine, real name Steven Johnson (how the nickname and his original name are related is beyond me). He talks and walks like a 70s dirty punk, but he’s far from them lot; Johnny has no dignity, no sense of justice, equality or any ideals. Johnny has no identity except for his destructive personality and his trademark sunglasses, which he rarely takes off.

Over on the couch are the rest of us. Beside me is Dani Anderson, with long black hair down to his shoulders and pale skin, munching on a packet of crisp whilst watching the television with deep, intoxicating blue eyes. Dani had been with me the longest, a bastard of a man who got on well with us lot because we were bastards, too, but never really clicked with the rest of society.

Sat beside Dani is the only girl in our group, Eden. She’s an intelligent one, I’ll give here that, with luxurious blonde hair past her shoulders and emerald eyes that could see into your soul like a talented palm reader. She was far from anything we had ever known, the ‘safer’ person in our group, though always daring in her own way.

There used to be a man called Judas, who is no longer with us, but I won’t go into detail. He was named so not for any treachery or faith, but simply because of his looks. He was a sullen looking boy, with black hair cut neatly above his ears and dark circles around his eyes, from lack of sleep and using far too many substances. Judas was more than a friend to us, a quiet one who was always there in the background to comfort us, but never good enough to deal with his own problems. He slept on the couch most nights, although his disorder kept him up. Judas was, by a series of unfortunate events, a manic depressive (or rather a sufferer of ‘bipolar disorder’ as it is known); he was an artistic wonder, a painter and a master of words, a musician and a fine man who simply slipped into the wrong group. For the past few months, we’ve walked alone without Judas, and he used to sit right next to Eden. Like a shadow or an echo.

And what of I, Dare? Well, I’m the most simple and complicated man I’ve ever known. I didn’t have a good family growing up, only my friends to lean on and my bad habits to keep my alive. I’m tall with messy blond hair and a set of blue eyes, eyes that always look sad. I’m not sad, though; I’m a happy person, because I know that every day will never be a waste. I know that every day I’ll look back with a smile, because I did something new, I did something daring.

We soar into danger and ignore the evil on the streets; we’re like a wake of buzzards, and this is our story.[/SiZE][/align]















A/N: This is just a little something I've been working on, using characters I've come up with before (excluding Judas who is new). I dunno. Hope you like the introduction.