Some of these ideas here were based off of things on other stories like, well, I forgot his name, but once you read it you’ll see what I mean.

Jason awoke with a start.

He looked around. The room, dark and pitch black as the night sky, was as still as could be. An alarm clock next to his bed with the glowing numbers 3:28 shown brightly as it gave off a shimmer of green glow. Shaking his head in disbelief at his own conciousness, he grabbed his covers tightly and pulled it over his head, therefore resuming his sleep. He closed his eyes.. deeply, deeply, drifting off into the distance of slumber.

“Wake up, damnit.” My father’s deep and dark voice soon filled the room.

I stirred in my light blue pajamas, grunted, and tried going back to sleep.

“I SAID WAKE UP, WHELP! NO ONE WILL EVER RESPECT YOU IF YOU’RE A WIMP!”

My father whacked me with the flat side of his omega spear.

I yelled out with pain. I was now fully awake, breathing, trying to gasp for breath.

“Now, are you going to get some breakfast or stay in bed like a little wuss until you starve to death?”

I shook my head. The room was filled with pleasant sunshine, daintily filling the room with its prescense.

I looked around, opening my eyes as wide as I could, I looked around. Next to my bed was a chest: full of books. I loved reading more than anything else. I was very frail with no strength: I was never sick, but physically weak. I didn’t have that much depth perception because of the lack of strength in my eyes from reading. I loved books: but my father didn’t. He hated those books, he was a built man. He was a real man: the broad, buff shoulders, and he wielded a heavy spear I could never pick up. He was a dragon knight, a most powerful one. He was ranked the #2 knight in all the world. My mother, kind and gentle spirited, had the powers of healing: a legendary priest whose powers were not only used to help and support: but also had an offensive of holy magic at her arsenal. She was in the top 5 in the tournament of priests. Father and Mother, a great team. I envied them as a little kid when I watched them go tackle the hardest monsters: they’d have me in a stroller on the ride to ossyria on a pile of hay lifted to a window, with me peeking outside to watch them fight the fearsome beast the often referred to as the “Crimson Beast.” It was enormous: it was three times their size, and yet, they still tackled it. It had huge black wings and had the power to call upon dark lightning as well as shooting dark energy balls at the ones who tried to fight it. My father would roar, making the ship quake. He looked massively drained after that: but with my mother constantly protecting him from death by healing, he recovered quickly. He would yell and then it would feel as if a powerful aura ascended and he would strike one, two, and three times, stabbing the gigantic beast. My mother’s holy powers that affected the beast were incredible: she would summon a chibi dragon at her side to aid her, as well as healing my Father. They were an amazing duo, they were the first in the country to be ranked, the #1 team of 10 years.

My father had always wanted me to become a Dragon Knight like him. I scratched that idea: I was nowhere near his physique when I was born. I was born a frail child, but born with magical powers. I wasn’t born with any physical strength, therefore I was disappointing my father every day I lived. I loved to read, and I loved my magic. I could summon on my magic a little: but my powers were far from refined. I could sometimes read and turn the page a way without turning it myself, or throw snail shells at high speed. I could concentrate my mana on my feet and run faster, but only for a very short period of time. I had the power to heal myself faster, and my destiny was set: I was set to be a magician. My father and mother had stopped their wild adventures when she was pregnant with me: and they got married at a beautiful place called Amoria where it was a very romantic site. They retired to the relaxing town of Lith Harbor after they had me.

Today was a day called “The new creation,” where children would be sent from all around the world to a place called Maple Island, a time where they would grow into their first jobs and find their own destinies. It was an annual event for children who had reached the age of 10. I dressed with my gray t-shirt and blue jean shorts, and I walked down the stairs of my house. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed an unagi, pocketed it, and my mother, with her shining black hair and her Evil Wings at her side, she smiled and said, “Hello dear. Are you off to Maple Island today? It’s that time of year again.”

I nodded, and hugged her. I’d miss her for a while. I had my bag of savings in mesos over the years to purchase my ticket to Maple Island, and I slipped on my leather slippers. I shouldered my bag of favorite books, and all of my possesions. I would not be returning home anytime soon. Reaching into the chest next to the table, I pulled out my father’s old sword when he first went as a boy to become a warrior. It was a special sword, though, the handle had been worn out and there was a sticky substance that I didn’t want to know where it came from. I held the handle on the sword, waved to my parents, and walked out of the door. It was a short walk to the massive ship with its air flying priviliges, and it was very colorful. I expected the captain somewhere taking mesos for tickets but found no one after a few minute’s walk from home.
“So, are you here for Maple Island? That’ll be 150 mesos.”

I handed him my bag of mesos and he counted a pack of bills that totalled to it. He nodded, and recounted it. When he gave it back to me, it felt rather lighter than usual.

He handed me a ticket, and I walked up to the lady wearing a brown hat. She looked sleepy. She took it from me, and directed me to my seat.

The boat was crowded and packed. There were people with many different hairstyles, and skintones. My hairstyle was like none other: I was too lazy to cut it, and it was grown all out. It was disheveled, and it shined black, like my mother. I had inherited my father’s eyes when he was born: but he had paid special money to get it changed. My eyes were brown and shaped roundly. I looked to my left and to my right, some people had a buzzcut, big blue eyes, red rubber boots, and I stared in amazement. I felt around in my pocket, feeling that unagi that I had taken from home for breakfast. I took it out of my pocket, and broke off a piece. I popped it into my mouth, munching on it. I reached into my bag after laying it down in the seat next to me, and pulled out my favorite books: Your Guide to Raising Penguins. I always wanted a pet penguin: but only really rich people could get one. This was still my favorite book either way, and so I read the text over and over like I did for the previous 10 years. Looking up from my book I saw a burly person with a buzzcut and blue eyes staring at me widly. I could hear him talking to the other burly buzzcuts next to him, muttering angrily. He walked up to me, and said very curtly, “You being a warrior? I got a group around here that you can join.”

Being the person that I am, I never like it when I am disturbed when reading. I decided to show him some sarcasm.

I snorted at his comment.

“What, are you blind, or you just can’t see i’m as weak as a tree. You must be stupider than a baboon.”

He looked quite startled at my comment. His eyebrows furrowed as if he were enraged inside, and walked back off to his group, then pointing at me.

I heard mutters around me.

“Hey, that kid’s eyes look like Raekw0n before he got surgery.”

“Yeah, his hair’s like Memouri too.”

“That can’t be their kid. He’s so scrawny.”

I looked around suspiciously: people already knew who I was and who my parents were? My eyes were shifty, and I continued to read. I soon heard a deep voice push me and then punch my book out of my hands. He was back for more.

“Hey, you, poop face. That’s right, you’re an asshole. No way Raekw0n can be your dad. You’re way too scrawny. We should see how good you fight to see if you really deserve to be his son.”

I felt my insides squirm. I screwed my face up bravely, and replied cooly, “Yeah, and where’d you come from? What if I am their son?”

“You aint their ****in’ son. Their son would be a lot bigger and better than you’ll ever be.” He retorted.

Feeling my insides boil, and my eyes twitching, I stood up abruptly. Many of the people in the boat turned to stare, as a circle encased me and this person. He was built: I could guess he was a warrior. He had broad shoulders, and had big arms too. He looked muscular, but he didn’t look like he could move very fast.

My book on the ground, was now smeared with the dirt that the people had when they were coming. Page 71 was hardly even recognizable.

“You gonna fight or whine about your little book?” He said threateningly.

Many people wooped at the sound of the threat.

“Hah, fight you. That’s funny.” I added lots of sarcasm in my voice.

More people oohed at that. The crowd chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

We stood staring at each other, our swords clutched in both of our hands. Instead of a sword, he held a wooden club. We stared a bit longer, and I could feel my insides boiling, my fingers with potent power. I was ready for when he lunged at me.. I knew my life would get tougher at this point: it was time to see what I was capable of.

To be continued.

-EDIT
Added 5 spaces because tab doesn’t work.
Okay, I edited everything to the person who made me look like a total idiot
Thanks though, I would look like a bigger idiot if it weren’t thanks to you.
(Ya didn’t have to be so mean though )
*1/3/07 – I spaced out the page because to help it be easier to read.