Young Writers Society

Setting: Wilderness in Africa
People limit: None
Rules: No really bad language, the rest is okay.

Define your characters like this:




Chris kicks the tire of the now useless car, and yells, "Help me. Is anyone there?"
Then she turns and looks around the land, at her car that hit a tree, trying to miss hitting a baby animal.

A raspy voice spoke up from behind her. "Kicking it 'snot gonna bring it back to life, ya know." Miles stood leaning against another tree, arms crossed, smirking. His wings remained rather unnoticeable, neatly tucked against his back, under his jacket.

"Whatever." she eyes him, and unfurls her wings slowly, "how did you get here?"

Miles watched closely as she began to unfurl her wings. *Another winged creature - bet you didn't go the years of torture I did to get yours,* he thought.

"Not by car, in case you were hoping for a lift," he said sarcastically. He remained in his casual pose against the tree, not stirring as he spoke. "I walked," he said flatly.

"I was born with them." Chris groans. "I hate it here!"

She flops down onto the ground.

Miles changed his expression from nonchalant to questioning. "Now now," he spoke. "There are far better things to hate than an African wilderness."

He walked over to where she was flopped on the ground, and extended a hand to offer her help back up. "For instance," he said, "hatred like that could be put to much better use towards the crazy people who I have these to thank for." He gestured to his back, but did not unfurl his wings.

Chris just glares at her car, that was brand new. "People like my father. My father is lucifer." She takes his hand.

Miles hesitated in his demeanor, but only for a moment. He was not fond of that name. It made something deep within him heat up with anger, but he didn't quite know why. "I see."

He pulled her to her feet, noting the softness of her hand. He dropped it and crossed his arms again. That would explain her wings - or at least, he thought so. It hadn't been very long since he'd escaped Corporation X, and they'd kept all their experiments pretty tightly locked up, away from the happenings of the world. Still, he'd learned a lot in the time he'd been running.

"I am Chris." Chris smiles. "Thanks."

"Chris." He repeated her name, testing it out. He decided he liked it. "Chris, my name is Miles." He stuck out his hand to shake like a proper introduction.

She shakes his hand, and grins. "I like your name."

Then she looks around at the trees.

"Yeah? I like it too," he admitted as he shook her hand with a grin to match hers. Then he followed her gaze toward the trees.

"What is it?" he asked, ears listening for abnormal sounds. Not that he knew much of what it should normally sound like in the African wilderness. His back now turned to her, his folded up wings now facing her.

"I am thinking. MY family member, Ezmerelda Wix, should be here. She lives with the bugs. The goddess of Insects and persuasion" Chris looks around at the trees and then out of a bush runs a huge red and black butterfly. "Samueal!"

"Woah." Miles took a step back at the sight, unintentionally unfurling his wings abruptly. Through two slices in the back of his jacket erupted his magnificent wings - brilliantly speckled with brown and copper, similar to the phenotype of a hawk of some kind. His wings expanded out to ten feet across.

All this a sort of sudden fight-or-flight response - to a...butterfly? A freaking butterfly? Who was this creature? Surely he hadn't lost his cool and collected attitude so unnecessarily.

"calm down." Chris leans down and picks up her aunt's baby. "This is Sameal. He is an extremely rare animal of my aunts."

"Chris?" A voice says. "Who is this?"

"Aunt Ez,This is Miles." Chris says, then an African woman appears.