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   I was awakened by the sound of crying. The sound was loud, ragged, and feminine.  Confused, I sat up in my bed as the mattress groaned beneath my body. The sunlight shone through my window, making rainbows on the walls from the colored glass I had dangled from the window's frame.
   My room was a green that matched the color of a box of green tea. I had a few posters on my walls of bands like The Shins, Wilco, U2, The Strokes, and Modest Mouse. Otherwise I collected foriegn things like Budhas, foriegn dolls, japanese candy, manga books and drawings, rice wallpaper, kandii bracelets (I don't take E, I'm not a raver), a kimono that my step grandmother bought me for Christmas, a Lolita outfit that I loved to death,some asian paintings with some unknown symbols on them and much more. My bed was a loft with a desk under it. I stayed up late writing poems and opinions. I used to keep a journal but I had abandoned it long ago. My neighbor, Mack, had tried to steal it once.
   It was my mother, I had realized. My thoughts were dragged back to the hysterical crying. The sobbing was obviously a feminine sound as I previously mentioned. My mother's voice cracked, "Dead, Jaret! He's...he's dead."
   Jaret? Who was Jaret? I thought to myself, puzzled.
   Wincing as I heard a creak, I stood up. I slid over to my door and pressed my ear against it. The door was a deep brown wood, very old like our whole house. Once we found a rat in the bathtub and had to get an exterminator. One of the pipes was the wrong one in place, way to big. It was a baby rat so it fit through the facuet of the bath...thats what my parents told me at least. Thinking back, I was probably about seven or so.
   "Sweetheart I'm sorry," my Dad murmured, "I'm really sorry."
   I couldn't make out anything else as I kneeled down on the floor. Even after trying to listen through the vents, all I could hear was my mother's crying. She had been miserable and depressed for the past two days. I had steered clear of her as much as I could, even though it pained me. We held a close relationship, as did my Dad and I. I was saddened that she wouldn't tell me what was going on but I was fourteen, not her age.
   I pulled off my pajamas and clothed my body in a casual attire of a t-shirt, today it was The Shins, and some skinny jeans. I yanked on my converse, lacing the hi tops up to only the third notch. Then I realized that I wasn't wearing socks and took my shoes off to put on a glow in the dark pair.
   After brushing my teeth I put my hair in a messy bun. My hair was originally a chocolate brown but I had blonde streaks all over in it, making it less regular. I ran a comb through my bangs and stuck on a bracelet from Hot Topic that said Mean People Suck. I was not a Hot Topic fan, I visited the punk store maybe once every six months. I was more of a thrifty or consiment store girl, all of the neon colors contrasting with black overwhelmed me.
   Finally, knowing I couldn't leave the house out the second window, I decended downstairs to my sad mother and father. My Mom looked up, her face red and eyes puffy, "Aiden," she sniffled.
   "Whats wrong?" I frowned, striding next to her, "You've been crying." I corrected myself, "You are crying."
   She wiped away her tears on her crimson sleeves and my father rested his hand on her shoulder, "My brother Jaret has passed away."
   Since when has she had any siblings? I thought Mom was an only child! My brow furrowed as I pondered this information.
   Dad spotted the confusion on my face, "He was sent to an Asylum for the last two months."
   "David!" Mom shrieked, "She's too young for that!"
   "Mom," I pleaded, "I'm fourteen and in my freshmen year. If I've gone to health class why can't I hear this?"
   Mom and Dad exchanged glances and Mom caved in, "David I can't do this," she stood up, her dark brown bangs covering her eyes, "I'm going to go take a walk," she sniffled again, "Clear up my aura," Yes my Mother was a yoga teacher. Shes into meditation and all of that stuff.
   Mom strode out of the house quickly, slamming the door. I felt afraid, "What is going on? She was calm when your brother died."
   "Aiden," my Dad warned. "It's her family this time. Now, lets sit on the couch. I've been in this kitchen for six goddamn hours," Dad had dark cirlcles under his eyes and his shirt was wet and wrinkled.
   I nodded and followed him, sitting next to him on our green couch. He was silent for a while and I listened to the sounds around me.
The timer was beeping, screeching that its contents were cooked. Birds were chirping outside, some sounded beautiful, others I could live without. A baby was screaming and crying in the house to the left of us, on the right a dog was barking.
   "Aiden," my Dad said, "You swear not to repeat this to anyone?"

   "So Uncle Jaret or whoever is in an asylum. He went crazy and became dangerous after reading some fiction novel, our great great great grandfather wrote. Jaret says it was a journal. Apparently its about these demon things that are our guardians. I don't get it, but I think it might be real," I chattered to Tigger, Mrs. Kaichui's dog. She was a family friend and knew our whole family tree by heart.
   "Nobody can find the journal," I murmured, "I want to find it. I thought angels were guardians. I guess I can't decide if its real or not yet. I have to find this book!" I exclaimed to myself.
   School had finished half an hour ago, so I had decided to run and talk to Tigger. I had friends, but I swore to Dad I wouldn't tell any human alive. Besides, what was Tigger going to do? Bite my butt and go scream it to the world? I think not.
   "But where does he live Tigger? Who knows about him besides Mom and Dad? Who can help me?"
   Who would tell me anything?
   "Aiden!" I heard Mrs. Kaichui call, "Hello there sweetie! You look confused today," she came out of her small house. Mrs. K had short red hair, and dark eyes like me. She was thirty six and was more intense in all the meditation stuff than my Mom. They were cousins, I think. Or they probably just said they were so they would be related. Mrs. Kaichui was dressed in a hemp dress which was the color of the grass. The dress was pulled up right above her knees and pinned so she could garden, it was her gardening dress. Dirt and stains speckled its beauty.
   "If I have a green thumb I need a green dress," she would say when anyone dared to question her. Her real name was Mirella and she asked me to call her that. Not that I ever picked up on it, and remembered to. Mrs. Kaichui smelled of insense and herb as usual. Her feet and hands were brown and I observed the basil in her hand.
   Our eyes met and I found the person who could give me answers.
This is about a girl named Aiden who finds out that not everyone has a guardian angel. (Better description later eue")

Beta/Editor" :icontheartistickitsune: Check her gallery out, please! :)
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Stickmen-Evolved Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
An interesting concept, and good lengthwise for a prologue. :) However, I'd say you need to work on your spelling here and there, such as "foreign". Did you write first on word then transfer, or did you write it straight on dA's text box? o,o Sometime's it's helpful to use Word, not only for spelling but just to keep track of where you are in writing.

Characterisation of Aiden is ok so far, and it's fine for a prologue, and the description of her room is excellent. I can picture it clearly in my mind. ^.^ Although, what I can discern from this is that Aiden likes other cultures, a variety of bands (sorry, I can't elaborate here because I only know U2 out of them >.>''), and really wants to find that journal.

Oh, and why is a random deviant you've never heard of ranting on your prologue? Cos' out of all the stuff I see coming through Write Roomies (I'm a member) yours caught my eye, and I've decided to give some feedback. I mean, who doesn't like feedback? :D
Aehaini Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Whoah...first off: Thank you *huge grin* Second off, I'm a really good speller. But I type way too fast and my cheap laptop doesn't have Word, and I don't have the money for it. The openness to all cultures plays into the story later. Really, thank you. I'm glad this stuck out to you, and that you decided to check it out. Can't say thank you enough! :D
Blasphemer88 Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2012
REALLY EXCELLENT WORK! My only piece of advice is watch out for Mrs.Kaichui. People are never what they seem.
Aehaini Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh, thank you :) Her last name was inspired by two pokemon actually...quite odd.
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