Craaven

After getting kicked out of his home, eleven year old Edgar Craaven, is transformed into a raven by a crazed nature alchemist and is forced to survive with the help of his friend William Tuck. But after an almost deadly plane crash, Edgar finds himself thrown into a land that seemingly doesn't even exist. Now he's forced to survive in a strange world while at the same time falling head over heels for a beautiful young girl. However when she is murdered, Edgar begins to struggle to keep his sanity together.

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2. Chapter 1: Watford, England 1977

I pace back and forth in my cell-like bedroom. The pale skin around my eyes turns lavender with the lack of sleep and stress. My ears pound with blood and my heart races. Sweat calmly drips down my forehead and neck. My eyes suddenly dart towards the door when I hear heavy footsteps coming from behind it.

"Edgar." a low raspy voice calls. "Come on out, I want to speak with ya." My brain screams at me to run and try to escape through the nailed window, but my legs stay frozen in fear.

As the man's patience drains quickly, he barges into my room. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and it lets me know this talk won't be a kind one. 

My Dad's eyes are weary and dull; they have been for years now. I used to see that comforting twinkle in his eyes, but now, I see nothing. Those eyes used to be the most comforting thing to me. The arms he wrapped around my Mum and me were the safest place I could be. But oh, how it has changed...

"Edgar! What the hell did I just say!? Why do you never listen!?" My father bellows, knocking me off my feet with a hard shove. I land on my back-side with a grunt, my voice high-pitched and scared. Tears form on my eyelids and soon, the reminiscence of the trail those tears created are tracing my cheekbone and dripping onto my crimson t-shirt.

"I-it's difficult to listen with all your shouting," I reply, my voice steadier than anticipated. Dad growls angrily and picks me up off the floor, before pinning my shoulders against the wall. He looks deeply into my eyes, examining every single thread of hate sewn in them. Dad growls.

"You're not my son..."

I feel a chord strike in my heart at the sound of those words. I suddenly felt a sinking sadness that let me know I'm being forgotten, abandoned, disowned. Any of those was what summed up Dad's odd intentions.

"You're nothing but a trapped demon inside my boy's body!" Dad yells, letting me go and retreating to the middle of the room.

He looks me straight in the eye after yelling. His eyes were filling with tears.

"Dad," I say simply, my voice shaky and quiet. He holds up a hand to silence me. "I don't wanna hear it, freak," He sniffles as he talks.

"Dad... " I start, "What are you doing?" Of course, he doesn't answer. All my father does is stare at my face with horrid loathing. Dad sighs as if he made a decision he didn't want to, before reaching into his pocket and suddenly pulling out a pistol.

I gasp loudly, almost screaming. Dad points the weapon straight at my head, the barrel merely inches from my eyes.

"Get out before I send you back to hell, demon." My so-called "father" snivels. To avoid getting shot, I rapidly get my red backpack and head out the door, all the while tears poured from my eyes like a kitchen sink. I just couldn't believe what was happening... This can't be happening! What's going on inside my father's head?! He's never done this before! Why!? 

I walk speedily down the hall with my Dad behind me, ready to shoot. At one point I tried to say something to reason with him, hoping I could manipulate his drunk mind into lowering his pistol and letting me go, but once I said "Dad" he cocked the hammer back and shoved the barrel into my scalp.

Once I was outside, Dad gave me one last glance before slamming the door. The rain patters softly on my head as I stood frozen in the front yard, staring blankly at the darkened windows. But suddenly, the sound of a loud gunshot shook the house and my eardrums and knocked me out of my trance. Without even thinking, I ran straight back into the house, yelling for him. I went straight to his room and opened the door... he wasn't in there. So I went to every other room in the house.

He wasn't in any of them except mine... my bedroom. I shakily opened my door and immediately, the smell of fresh gunpowder and the reminiscence of alcohol. I let out a choked squeak when I pushed open the door some more and saw the body of my once father sprawled across the floor like a limp rag doll. I shook my head in silent disbelief.

This can't be happening. I thought to myself, taking a step out of my doorway.

Why me? Is this a dream? Please be a dream.

I couldn't take much more of reality and ran out of the house. I ran down the street and past the park I used to love. I ran past buildings and people with normal lives. I ran past everything, hoping to get away.

As I ran my mind races with thoughts about what just happened and if what just happened was even real. What caused my normally negligent father to suddenly pull a gun on me? He's never been that drunk. My eyes stay plastered to the ground as I jogged, but somehow, I knew where I was going. Though the rain was pouring, my tears dry on my face, but I didn't bother wiping them.

...

I've been walking for several minutes now, and the rain was now sprinkling gently. I could see the pub nearby, and my pace quickens. This bar was the bar my father went to and, and the bartender there knew my face like he knew the back of his own hand, often I would go here to just hang out and be alone while I write or draw.

Once I enter, the noisy hubbub that usually took place slowly subsided as each guest pointed their eyes at me. Usually, I didn't care if this happened but today, I felt small and helpless.

The people stared for a little longer before the sound of quite scolding and drunk chuckling fills my ears.

I ignored the many people staring at me, an extremely under aged minor walking into a bar. Instead, I walk straight up to a stool, announce my presence, and sip on a Samuel Smith's brew until my mind grows foggy...

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