|Fosterling: The Crow's Nest
Author: Bamboofoxfire Productions PM
When Crow's Nest Correctional Facility and Mental Health recieves it's youngest ever criminally insane patient convicted of a gruesome murder leaving 16 dead and 5 more wounded, the head psychologist and supervisor of the institute, Mamoru Chokichi, takes an acute interest in uncovering what happened to the boy, whose legal records indicate he doesn't even exist.[Please Review!]Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Chapters: 25 - Words: 145,545 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 06-05-13 - Published: 11-06-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3072164
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Went through and did corrections and a little bit of editing on my chapters, mainly just changing repetitive words and polishing up some phrase's or getting rid of some entirely, so hopefully it's a bit of a better read now(though according to most reviews and crit's there wasn't a ton wrong with the writing to begin with xD). All the chapters marked at the end of the title in the navigator have been edited/polished.
Now, a few notes before the main story. There seems to be some confusion as to the genre of the story? Mind you, the set genre is Hurt/Comfort/Mystery, not Horror/Suspense, so don't be all disappointed if you thought it was Horror/Suspense and doesn't meet your standards because that isn't the genre at all lol
Warning on this story as it does contain a bit of gore/violence, quite an abundance of foul language, and ideologically sensitive subjects within.
Interested in finding a possible Beta Reader/Editor to help me further polish up the writing or catch spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes or polish up some of the phrases and wording in the story. Of course any constructive criticism or critiques from anyone are highly appreciated.
Also interested in any legit publishers that may be interested in my work(mind you, I do thorough research before ever accepting or agreeing to anything!)
Special thanks to Rob Tucker for critique's and editing help on the Prologue and Chapter 1. Thanks to everyone else's reviews, comments, critiques, constructive criticisms, and even possible flames! Any and all of it is appreciated and has helped me out with this story so far =3
Special thanks to Derek57 on the Beta of Chapters 1-3
I'm looking to(hopefully) have this story published by sometime this summer, and am dutifully working on making new chapters daily(18 finished chapters and going strong, woo~!). If you're at all interested in buying my book when it gets published(let's hope it gets that far!) I have a poll on my profile page about it. I would very much appreciate any and all votes!
If you like this story, please favorite/follow/review to show your support, I gladly accept any and all reviews, even flames! I also accept anonymous reviews!
EDIT: If you're new to this story(or re-reading), you may have missed my announcement at the last chapter/Author's Note.
Fosterling: The Crow's Nest now has a site. The chapters are on the site as well. If you read this story at all, even if you hateit, I have a favor to ask. Take about 30 seconds to go to Fosterlingseries dot weebly dot com, click on Read the Book, click the button to "read it", and vote on the poll next to the Table of Contents what you thought of it. Love it? Hate it so much you'd rather seen it burnt to ashes? Then please vote for one and tell me what you think! I want honest feedback on it, to know how much support I have on it, or if people think it's either good or bad! It's completely anonymous, so don't be shy!
Feedback like that is very important to an author/would-be author looking to be published, because it tells them(or me, in this case) if it's actually got any support or would be worth buying for people when or if they want to have it finally published!
Please and thankyou! c:
Book 1: The Crow's Nest
Harsh, pained breaths escaped from dry lips as he swiped his tongue across their cracked surface. He surveyed his handiwork in the dimly lit room, arms hanging limply at his sides, baggy sleeves dotted in medley of blood. The once white gauze that covered both sides of his face, one side more heavily bandaged, was stained with his own blood from a sizeable wound connecting brow to jawline on the left side. He reached up with his free hand and wiped his sleeve across his face, smudging the blood spots on his skin – ones that were not his own. In the other hand gleamed a long, guard-less blade, its razor edge silver and its spine black. Light glinted off not only the metal but the thick, red coating of blood that dripped off the downturned tip.
I hate them…
Slumped against one wall, a stream of blood trickling down from her throat was a teenage female and lying supine on the ground with more gashes and a slit throat was an older woman, a pool of blood spreading from her neck and around her shoulder on one side, both with glazed eyes fixed on nothing. Both dead.
Another pair of victims of this night but it still wasn't satiating. It still wasn't enough. There needed to be more of them. More people stopped from harming others and more set free. More deaths. Before it was too late…running out of time…
He jolted out of his thoughts as his eye caught the glint of red and blue through a window and the screech of sirens blaring loudly. How long had he been lost to his own thoughts? Already he could hear the pounding of running shoes up the deck and he stepped to the window only a few paces away, brushing the curtain aside and glancing out to see the police cars parked with doors wide open below and vacated in a rush.
Moments later he heard the running footfalls stop just outside the door and pause for several seconds, like a sudden calm before the violent storm. His eye flicked to the door and the storm let loose. The door slammed open, swinging swiftly on the hinges and banging against the wall loudly. Had it not been for the person rushing in, it probably would have rebound off the wall that it collided with.
He could see the glint of metal in hand, not as large as his own weapon but just as lethal as the policemen pointed their weapons straight at him, silhouetted shapes in the darkness, light from the hall pouring into the dark room.
His single eye narrowed darkly into a fierce glare from beneath his bangs, trying to ignore the agony in his side and hold his ground, not give any signs as to his weakness as he stared down the barrel of the gun from a distance.
"Freeze! Drop your weapon and get on the ground!" The order went unheeded as the youth moved his free hand to grip the handle of his short sword as well as the one that already gripped it, lowering his head in the likeness of a bull ready to charge, his single eye glinting with intent.
All they do is cause pain…
"I said freeze!" The cop shouted again. Hesitating. Always, they hesitated…something he didn't really understand, because of the law and problems they'd personally face in court or something he guessed, but it didn't matter. A snarl in the back of his throat turned into a near battle-cry as the youth lunged forward, blade ready to claim another victim but his spree was cut short, or at least shorter than he would've liked.
A coppery taste…warmth trickling from the corner of his lips.
They don't deserve to live…
The pain that ripped through his torso was intense and his vision actually blacked for a moment. Perhaps it was just the darkness of the room he was seeing or maybe it was the pain from the bullet itself. Either way, it brought him tumbling back to the ground. Impacting with the floor only sent another shock of pain through his system but it was duller, fading.
The sound of the sirens, the shouting, the footsteps…
All of it was disappearing, sounding as though he was hearing things underwater first before the only thing that he could hear was a slowing Ba-dum, ba-dum ba…dum… in his ears.
The shadowy figures moving above him that barely registered in his head started to fade away into nothing but dark silence that was a welcoming embrace from everything he had ever had the misfortune to suffer through. Death was sweetly at hand.
Not a Single One.
Dark eyes watched the red and white vehicle as it rolled up the road from around the spiraling drive with a hard to read expression, the ambulance signaling a new arrival to add to their rather impressive collection of patients, of all different kinds. One arm was held behind his back in something of a formal, almost military manner despite that he'd never held a position in the field, while the other arm was wrapped around a clip board held to his side, a stack of papers neatly held by the metal clip at the top.
He was abnormally tall for someone of his ethnicity, 6' 4" with long black hair tied in the back behind his neck into a few loops so that it just brushed the top of his shoulders rather than all the way down his back, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The Japanese man was dressed in a pair of light khakis and a plain, blue shirt, a long, perfect white, flowing lab coat hanging down over it all.
Behind him stood several layers of tall, well-maintained chain link fence, the tops lined in a coiling of barbed wire and each layer of fence sectioned off by locked gates watched by uniformed guards, ready to open them though more often than not make sure no one escaped past them, despite how rare such an occurrence was. Behind that, most prominent from this side of the facility was a looming stone tower, the top room branching out a little wider than the rest of the tower with glass windows looking outward.
Idly swallowing, he quietly blew out a breath and regarded the ambulance as it approached, turning partially in the driveway so that it flanked the fence before creeping to a halt. The passenger in the cabin of the ambulance swung the door open and hopped out, circling to the rear of the vehicle and pulling the doors open. Nodding his head and speaking to someone, in only a few moments they, and another person, pulled a gurney from the ambulance and wheeled it towards the man who stood in front of the gates.
Already he could hear the clanging of the fences separating the facility from the outside world being pushed open behind him by the guards, having heard the sound many a time before and knowing that he would hear it again. His dark eyes sought out the younger figure strapped to the gurney, a boy that appeared to be in his pre-teens, messy, unruly brown hair hanging over a partially bandaged face, only his left eye, lower part of his nose and jaw visible, everything else covered by gauze and cotton pad.
Currently the child was unconscious, his expression deceivingly blissful and innocent under the effects of a more than adequate sedative, the seeming appearance of a perfectly normal and harmless boy. It was difficult to fathom, even knowing the full details of exactly what sort of atrocity he had committed, that he could be capable of such things. And yet there was no doubt.
He had not only admitted to the deed, but he had readily bragged about his 'accomplishment' with unbridled pride, thumbing his nose at the law and at the people most affected by it. The man's dark eyes softened with sadness that things had come to this, and yet he was also determined to uncover the million dollar question of why. It was the very reason the child had been entrusted to their care, and he personally vowed that they would do everything in their power to find salvation for him somehow.
Despite that he knew the boy couldn't hear him in his drug-addled state, he couldn't help but speak softly under his breath in a gentle and sort of reassuring tone.
"Welcome to your new home. You're safe now. You can't harm anyone else here."