Random Short Stories/Written Ideas

New Friend(s)!

Canary was having a particularly rough day. She and her invisible companions were left to their own devices when one of her famed episodes were triggered by the sight of a mother walking with her daughter along the street, hand in hand. Angel and Reaper both sensed the rising offness within their shared body while the woman's multicolored eyes were focused on the family. They tried to draw her attention away from the fuzzy memories that wiggled their way into Canary's mind.

Reaper cracked a ridiculous joke that she didn't hear. Angel tried to point something else out to her, but she was thoroughly trapped within the sadness that slowly began to engulf her. Thankfully, she'd turned her back on the pair, speedily walking away. The two voices in her head started to move away from their attempts at distracting her, outright asking her if she was okay, if she needed anything, if one of them should take over, and so on. The questions, mixed with her need for a quiet place to sit down and cry herself into oblivion, were overwhelming her. 

A hand shot to her head, mussing up the long strands of white and gold hair, her fingers pressing into her scalp a bit roughly. 

"Shut up, shut up, shut up-" She hissed breathlessly, eyes fogging up with tears. Canary wanted quiet, she wanted to be alone, she didn't want to be hounded with a dozen questions from her disembodied companions.

She picked up on the vaguest suggestion that she summon the Warden, seeing as it had helped her before. But she didn't want to burden it or interrupt its work. 

So, she stumbled over to a nearby alley, barely making it a few steps inside before she sunk onto her knees, a sob breaking loose. Her wings dropped, hitting the ground behind her with a gentle 'thud.'  

She missed her own family. Her memories of her time spent with them were blurred, but she knew she'd been close with them. In her time of need, when she'd gone to them as nothing more than a panicked mess, they'd shunned her. They'd thrown her out and slammed the door on her face, accusing her of not being their baby girl. 

She looked nothing like their daughter. She'd kept a picture; she'd hidden it away in the abandoned home she'd taken up residence in. Often times, Canary would stare at those green eyes, brightened by the happiness etched into the young face they belonged to. She'd search for that sense of familiarity, hoping that she would gain confirmation from photographic evidence that, yes, she looked like that before... Well, whatever incident caused her to come out looking like a mash-up of two different people. 

Often times, Canary wished she could go back to being just... Rowan. 

If she did, would her parents take her back? Would they open their door to her again?

No, she thought. They don't love you anymore. You're not their daughter. 

Their daughter had been long since forgotten, replaced by the mess of a creature that was on her knees, sobbing into the darkness of the shaded alley. 

Someone's coming, came Angel's soft voice. Canary swore she could feel them circling her in a protective embrace, but she knew she wouldn't find anything there if she looked. 

As if on cue with Angel's warning, a shoe scraped against the pavement, and a wary, but concerned, voice rang out. One that didn't belong to her companions, or anyone she knew.

"Are you okay?"

It startled her. 

What startled her even further was the peppier voice that followed, sounding as though it were wrangling itself into a lower tone. 

"She doesn't look okay..." It stated the obvious. 

"Observant." A third, cooler voice muttered sarcastically.