Title In Progress - Feedback Wanted

[Agunimon]

Title In Progress

Herro, this is Agunimon.

I"ve been working on a side project -somewhat- recently. There is no title as of the moment, and I would like some critiques on it so I can continue writing without worrying that this story makes no sense. It"s still very early in development, but I hope it will go along well.

Do take your time to read and feel free to comment and critique because I need your feedback to improve myself as a writer. owo

Cast

Frey (Main Character?)

Karie (Frey"s Sister.)

The Professor (Unknown! Dun dun dun!)

Warning: No cursing is in the following chapters, but I do “indirectly refer” to actions and future events.

Chapter List

1. The Artist of Red.

2. Fresh Smiles.

3. Wings of a Dove.

The Artist of Red

A light blue light scanned a finger and the door opened with a “whoosh” sound. The room was dark and eerie. The floor was swept clean and the desk in the far corner had files neatly piled on top of it. The only light source in the room gave out a pale green light. The footsteps of the man broke the fragile silence like a bat hitting glass.

Standing straight and proud, the man walked into the room with no word. The pale green light made his white coat look unnatural. Pushing up his glasses, he smiled to himself. This man was an artist. He was an artist of the unnatural. This was his studio where his masterpieces would be created. There were cylinders around the room with special containment machines. The green fluid in the safety glass somewhat lit the room.

It was a large, dark room. There was a metal table behind the cylinders, and there were countless jars of unknown objects. Thick textbooks on humans and animals were piled up on the floor. The door closed behind him making a clicking sound as it locked. Walking around towards the back of the room where the table was, he noticed a stain on the wall.

“What is this?” The man arched his back and adjusted his glasses. “A stain. All of its glorious red tainting my gray walls.” Annoyed, the man took out a wipe and started to rub it off.

After he had cleaned up the stain, he adjusted the equipment that lay near the table on a cart. The shiny metal that the objects were made out of reflected the pale green light of the cylinders. The cart was organized and ready for its odd use any time. The man rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Today was the day when he would receive his canvas to paint on. He was very familiar with this medium.

The intercom system blinked green on the wall. Sighing, the man walked up to it and pressed the “Answer” button.

“Your new task is ready. Open the door and your request shall be granted,” said the voice from the other side.

Silently, the man clicked the “Unlock” button and the door opened once more. Two able bodied men walked in carrying something. It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small either. Clasping his hands together in joy, the man smiled.

“On the table, men,” he said.

“Sir.”

Shortly after, the two men left. What was left for the man with the glasses was his canvas. This was what he painted on. This man with glasses was an artist of the unnatural, and the paintings on his canvases mainly were in red.

Fresh Smiles

Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway. The sole of the shoe hitting the floor created a symphony of its own kind. The clicks of the tiles and the flat sound of the sole complemented each other like the sun complements the moon. The hallway smelled of fresh paint and the tiles reflected the light from the light bulbs. The walls were painted a light blue and had a sign that said “Wet Paint”.

The doors covered the hallway like a paintings filling a gallery. They were a light gray and had numbers on them. A vending machine shed a light blue glow on the far end. The constant buzz of the ice machine was one of the few sounds. There was a large bulletin board that had a college mascot on it. The cartoon bear gave a thumbs up and it had a large grin on its face. The flag that the mascot was holding read: “The Colorado Grizzlies”.

There was only one person walking down these newly blue hallways. Holding a piece of crumpled paper in his hand, he looked at the doors in search of a certain number. Straightening out the paper he read the number again.

“Room 642,” the boy read aloud.

Walking up to a door that read “Room 642”, the boy took out a key and unlocked the door. The room smelled of new paint as well, and it had a single bed and a desk in it. Taking off his backpack and opening his suitcase, the boy started to decorate the room. After all, this would be his home for the next two years.

After a few minutes of taking things out of the red suitcase, the room looked like a more habitable place. A lamp was set up on the desk, and books were neatly stacked. The covers of the bed were a blueish gray and the pillow was fluffed up. A single picture frame stood on the desk. It was small but it contained a photo that the boy treasured.

His family were huddled together in a group photo. His father had a large grin on his face and his arms rested on the boy’s and his younger sister’s shoulders. The pink floral shirt of his dad wore stood out in the picture. His mother was in a simple tan dress with a wide brimmed sun hat. His sister was clutching a stuff animal bird and the boy’s brown hair was brighter in the sun. He had a camera hanging down from his neck, and his shirt pocket was full of pencils. A sketchbook was clasped in his right hand, and his left hand held his sister’s hand.

The palm trees in the background complemented the beach. The deep blue waves stood out from the white foam that came when they hit the shoreline. An umbrella was near the palm trees and a cooler was near it. There was only one thing added, and that was a signature of their names on the back of it.

Flipping the frame around, the boy removed the picture from the wood. On the back, their names were written in red ink.

“Dad, Mom, Karie, Frey.”

The boy fell on the bed and held the photo to the ceiling. While staring at their grinning faces, he smiled as well.

Wings of a Dove

A girl lay on the metal table. Her skin was pale and seemingly lifeless. The green light from the cylinders made her look more like a mannequin than a real human. Her long brown hair hung off the edge of the table like a waterfall on the edge of a cliff. A white sheet that was whiter than her already pale skin covered her body.

Her breathing was soft and was barely audible. If you didn’t see her chest heaving with every breath, you would think she was dead. She wasn’t the only figure in the dark room. The man with glasses stood next to the table standing straight. Stroking the girl’s hair, he smiled to himself. What kind of materials should he use for this masterpiece?

Picking up a textbook, he started flipping through the pages.

“A tiger? Hmm . . . No,” he put the textbook on his desk and pondered over his ideas again.

Shaking his head, he unlocked the door and a deluge of light flooded into the room. The light bulb gave out light far stronger than the pale green light of the cylinders. Blinking his eyes because of the brightness, the man looked towards the floor. It was covered in tiles they didn’t carry a trace of any civilization. It was like this whole complex was empty.

This large high tech building was created by the government as a factory originally, but was eventually forgotten about. After terrorists had bombed this place, the officials decided to abandon this dangerous place. The only thing that was left intact in the little town was the factory building. Broken shingles and burnt wood from the bombing still lay in the outskirts of the former town.

Now, this factory fell into a certain group’s hands. They didn’t interfere with the current government and weren’t tied to them. They weren’t much of a criminal syndicate. You could say that they were aiming for world peace and a higher society, but their ideas of it were probably more different than your average citizen.

A dove flew in front of the man’s face and he stepped back in surprise. With a clatter, the glasses had fell off of his gruff looking face. His face was shaved, but the bristles of hair were starting to pop out again. His hair was fairly short, but not too long either. It was sticking out in some places for not being combed properly. His somewhat broad shoulders gave him an odd look with the white coat he wore. He wasn’t a muscular person, and he was quite skinny. His eyes gave that bored yet superior look to anyone who looked at him.

With a sigh, he bent down and picked up his glasses. A shorter man suddenly stopped in front of him. He was in a white coat as well.
“I’m sorry Professor,” the man said as he bowed. “When I stuck my hand into the cage to get the dove, it flew past me and went out.”

“Quiet and go fetch that dove, I think I might need it,” the professor with glasses said.

Nodding vigorously then rushing off, the other man was thankful that the old man didn’t lecture him. The professor was known to start yelling at others who made a mistake, no matter how big or small. The professor smiled and pushed up his glasses. Those pure white wings and the grace of its flight. For a small and common bird, this impressed him even more.

“Heh,” the professor laughed silently. “I think we’re going to have our little girl be one of our little angels.”

A title is in progress, if you have any ideas for a title they will be read and looked over. C:

I must stress this fact:

Feedback, comments, and critiques are wanted!

Help me improve my terrible writing skills. :3

.:Agun:.