Kite Winning Entry

The gates stood ominously open before him and the young Gargoyle’s purple wings twitched uncertainly. It’s always difficult to be the ‘new kid’, but to be the new kid when you are sixteen years old and walking into territory long since claimed by other teenagers is never going to be fun. Mustering a deep breath the Gargoyle strode forward, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to find the timetable he had been given previously. Apparently, he was supposed to go to the rooms numbered on this ‘time-table’ and there would be subjects taught in each one that he should already have a basic knowledge of. He didn’t of course. He was a GARGOYLE - Gargoyles don’t go to school. They live up in the mountains in clans and rarely venture anywhere near cities or civilisations. They are taught purely to protect the clan and until recently this young Gargoyle had been no different.

His clan leader had taught him the ways of a warrior. He had been the best young warrior in his clan. He could fight proficiently with any weapon you put in his hands, no matter how primitive, but what on earth was a ‘pencil’? He had heard he would need one of those.

Brushing his shaggy, violet coloured hair out of his eyes he opened the main doors to the large, odd looking building and entered into an alien world.

The noise! Goodness the noise! Students whizzed past and around him, chattering and laughing, bumping into his wings, tripping over his tail, and then proceeded to stare at him as he awkwardly tried to navigate the masses.
“What IS he?” He heard a red headed girl – a Kelpie, ask her human friend. The human girl shrugged her shoulders.
“Why doesn’t he wear a shirt?” A human boy sneered, eyeing the Gargoyle’s naked chest disapprovingly.

Ignoring the remarks the Gargoyle moved over to a big metallic wall. Apparently, these big walls were called ‘lockers’ and the peculiar silver key he had been given would open one, and it would in turn have things called ‘books’ inside that he was to take to his ‘lessons’ with him. Complicated stuff no question, but he was just about managing to keep up. He got to his allocated locker, and sure enough the key he had been given clicked it open nicely. He peered inside and picked out a book which had ‘English’ written on it. This was the one he needed. He knew because ‘English’ was also the first thing written on his ‘timetable’.

“Hey guys, look at THAT!” A voice rang out behind him. The Gargoyle jumped and turned to be met with three students, two boys and one human girl, staring at him. One of the boys, the one that had spoken, was an Imp and was leering at him with sharp, acid green eyes.
“He’s got wings.” The girl with them remarked, “I don’t have wings.”
“That’s because he’s a GARGOYLE,” The Imp replied. His voice was almost sing-song like. But it was a nasty song, laced with venom and ridicule. “Isn’t that right? You’re a GARGOYLE aren’t you?”
The Gargoyle nodded.
“See? I knew he was! My dad told me all about them. They don’t normally go to school. They’re just savages who live in the mountains and fight all the time.” The Gargoyle’s eyes narrowed at the remark.
“See, look at the way he’s looking at me! He’s a savage! You shouldn’t be allowed here with civilised people Gargoyle. He’ll probably attack as soon as our backs are turned.”
“What’s your name, Gargoyle?” The girl asked, her gaze travelling up from his denim clad legs to his bare purple torso, and finally resting on his silvery grey eyes.
“Dacha.” The Gargoyle replied, his gaze flitting between the three of them distrustfully.
“That’s a nice name,” the girl smiled, “My names Amber.”
“Don’t kiss up to him Amber!” The other boy, who was a Fey, chipped in. “As soon as you trust him he’ll jump on you, and only Pandoria knows what he’d do to you.”
“Yeah, he’d eat your brains,” The Imp snickered, “If you had any.”

Fighting the urge to prove the two boys right and lunge at the three of them, Dacha turned back to shut his locker. The metal edge nicked his arm as it swung, causing him to growl at the sharp burst of pain it caused. It left a small cut on his forearm and a trickle of blood oozed at its corners.
“Look! His blood’s BLACK!” The Imp shrieked in delighted disgust. “They have black blood! It’s black because they prey on Imps, my dad told me.”
“As if,” The girl shot back, “Who’d want to eat you Roscoe? You’d taste sour and nasty.” The other boy sniggered, and the Imps eyes flashed menacingly.
“Fine. Stay here with him then, Gargoyle lover. Come on Zeb, lets leave her with the winged freak.” The Imp spat, and the Fey obediently moved off with him, leaving Dacha and the human alone in the corridor.
“Sorry about that,” the girl smiled, “Roscoe likes to throw his weight around sometimes. You don’t really eat Imps do you?”
Dacha looked at the Imp and his friend, receding further up the corridor. “No. But I’d make an exception for that one.” The girl laughed, and physically seemed to relax a little.
“So… What class do you have now?” She asked.
“English.” Dacha said bluntly, thrusting the book with ‘English’ written across it at her.
“Ok cool so do I. I’ll show you where it is.”

And so the two of them made their way to the ‘English’ room. The girl was fascinated, asking if she could touch his wings, and when Dacha nodded, gasped in awe as she felt the sharp claws affixed to the top of them.

So this is what making ‘friends’ is like, Dacha mused, casting a sideward glance at Amber’s amazed face as he showed her how he could retract his claws. With any luck if he made any more, he wouldn’t have to be ridiculed mercilessly first.