Sam, a 15 year old boy, has just found out life changing news. (Not Finished)
|Uprising, Begining--missing. Work in Progress
Sam again, was stunned speechless. "Teach me to use my gift? What gift?" Sam asked the strange man, Mr. Heartridge, he had thought the name was. The man turned to Sam's Uncle Emrich.
"You did tell Sam that he is a Pisalu, didn't you Emrich?" he asked in a low, threatening tone. Sam's Uncle shuffled his feet and retreated a step. There was a burrning rage of confusion and dissapointment in the stranger's eyes, as he watched the antics of the younger man. Sam's uncle started out: "W-W-We-Well, I th-thought that it would-whould have been best if Sam didn't know..."
Sam was shooken out of his comosose state by this new relivation. "WHAT?!" Sam blurted out, causing all eyes in the room to turn on him. But he didn't care, he was sick of the lies and half truths. "What do you mean, I am a Pisalu? How in the world is that possible?! It would mean that my Uncle had to be one too, and I know for a FACT that he isn't." Like some kind of disorder, the ability of the Pisalu was a hereditary traite. You were born with it, or you wern't. It had a tendencey to run in familys, though over the past few decades more and more generations had been skipped. Sam felt a cold flash of fear, and wondered for a moment if he was a Pisalu, and that his uncle had just been one of the most recent in their family to be skipped.
"Well, Sam," his uncle was speaking, and Sam drug his thoughts back to the crisis at hand, and listened. "That is probaby because I am not, well, I'm not really--Not that I don't wish I was, because I do!--But, I am not your real uncle." He continued on in a rush, trying to get it all out, as if the knoledge had been burning a whole in his head for a very long time. "You see," he said, "I knew your parents, and I was the only one that wanted you, so I got you. You were just a tot when they...well, when I got you, and even then, you knew I wan't daddy. So, I became your Uncle, not that you didn' t call me that anyway, what with your parents and I knowing eachother way back..." He trailed off, eyes begging Sam to understand. Sam wasn't sure that he wanted to.
After Emrich had finished his rant, there was silence. For how long, Sam couldn't tell, for his mind was numb. This was all too much to process at once, let alone in the middle of the night. Sam found himself swallowing back tears, as a rage grew in him. How could his entire life have been a lie? This man he had been living with for 13 years was a total stranger! Sam forced the lump in his throat down, blinking rapidly to demolish the chance of tears running down his chin. Once his courage was sufficiantly summed up, he said calmly, "Mr. Heartridge?" Heads snapped up all over the room, and that was when Sam noticed that they had all been looking away, to save him from shame. Mr. Heartridge met Sam's angry eyes with his own placid ones.
"I would like to leave this place with you, so that I might learn to use my gift. And, maybe even about my real family, and real uncle, and real life." He did not see the tears that fell down Emrich's chin.
Even though Sam had said it, and ment it, he was still enraged. Sam wondered, 'Who is this man, Emrich, and why did he lie to me? What could the harm have been, telling me the truth?, And Why...' but his train of thought was brought to a halt, by the other men of the group. He had a long face, and was soggy around the mid-section. He had kind eyes though, and his posture was non-threatening when he said, "Time's a wastin, we'd better get a move on men, Sam." Another man, this one with ear lenght brown hair, and who was so tall he had to slouch to fit in the small home, said, "Ya, he has a point. (refering to Soggy-waist's comment) Com'mon Sam, let's get your things packed."
As Sam packed, he idly questioned the stranger who was helping him. His name was Mr. Lizith, and he was man who had found in what country Sam was. Sam was not really there, brooding more in his own mind of the fact that he had been lied to. He felt that for some reason, he should have know, should have suspected that Emrich was being untruthful, and he didn't know if he would ever be able to forgive the man. With his blood still boiling in rage, he marched out of the bedroom, through the main room where all the rest of the 4 stranges, and his uncle stood, waiting. He didn't spare them a glance, as he headed out the door, one of the other men following close behind.
Mr. Heartridge sighed as the angry youth stormed out the door, and turned to Emrich, who had tears falling from his eyes, unheaded. He akwardly placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, and his face was full of regret when he spoke. "Emrich, he is a boy. He will be prone to his tempers, and there is not much that you can do." He wanted to point out that he should have told the boy sooner, but Tid Lizith caught his eye. The message that his college was trying to give him was plain, and he sighed in regret, as he caught Emrich's eyes with his own.
"Emrich," he said, in a calm, even voice, opening the other man's mind as he did so. He hated doing this, it felt too close to a rape for his tastes. "Emrich," he repeated, "Some of Sam's long lost family have come, and collected him from you. You left on the best of terms, only to find out that he never had had the power of a Pisalu. He is a normal boy, and he has now moved to Sonire." He gave the man one little nudge, and promptly caught him as he passed out. He lay Emrich on the floor, then gestured for his comrads to leave the small home, and join their new pupil outside.