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18 May 2009, 01:40 PM   #1
Joined: 17 May 2009
Posts: 3

Mosca smiled down at the infant. "Just look at her," he chuckled. "My nose, my eyes, my
hair, my chin. Let's hope she has your mami's nature!" The baby's siblings circled
around, staring down at the newborn.

Indeed, the child did seem to be a 'miniature Mosca.' Father and daughter shared the same
narrow nose and thin lips, that seemed to be permanently curving up into a smile. The dark
olive skin tone was the same; as was the mass of black, curly hair. Both had large,
silver-gray eyes, luminous in the dim lighting of the caravan. But the baby was much too
small. Mosca still smiled, but it was slightly pained; it was impossible to forget that
the child was a triplet. There could have been three infants, but instead there was just
this one. 

The other two Analilia still clutched in her arms. Mosca strode towards her. "Anita, mi
querida," he whispered. "you can let go of the children."

"No!" Analilia, or Anita, cried. "I have to protect them..."

"I'll keep them safe," Mosca pleaded. "I promise."

Anita's pale green eyes finally focused on her husband. "You swear? On your life?"

"Yes, Anita. On my life." 

Slowly, Anita's grip on the two dead children slackened; Mosca scooped them up in his
arms, trying not to feel anything. As his wife began to doze off, her beautiful face
smoothing out so the wrinkles on her brow were less prominent, Mosca took the bodies

He buried them next to each other, on the side of the road. A fern leaned over their
graves. One wooden post was erected. Engraved on it were the words: "Evita y Iago
Garcia. Descanse en paz."

Even as the traveling circus moved on, Mosca would not look back. He could not keep his
promise of keeping Evita and Iago safe; he would protect the remaining child with his

18 May 2009, 01:41 PM   #2
Guest Poster
Ohhh awsome!

18 May 2009, 07:54 PM   #3
Joined: 11 Jul 2008
Posts: 229
I love it.

19 May 2009, 11:50 PM    #4
Joined: 17 May 2009
Posts: 3
Chapter 1:

"Papá?" Mosca started and woke, looking for the source of the voice. It belonged
to his eldest son, Aaron.

"You startled me, chico." He reached out to ruffle his son's hair, but Aaron pulled
away, scowling.

"I need to ask you something."

"Then ask already, chico."

Aaron frowned again at the pet name, but said, "Have you chosen the next leader?" The
Garcia family was always led by someone, man or woman, as long as they were a Garcia. They
were chosen by the previous leader, and the Garcias' specific title for him/her was 'Mosca
of the Byways.' It also seemed that each Mosca of the Byways possessed silver-gray eyes.
Aaron's father was the leader at the moment. 

"Does it matter, chico? I am not dead yet." Mosca chuckled. "But yes, I have."

"Who?" In the darkness, it was impossible to read the expression on Aaron's face, but
there was a strange eagerness and ferocity in his words. Perhaps Mosca ignored it, or was
too tired to detect the yearning.

In any case, he answered, "Why, the little niña, of course!" He lifted his arms.
Aaron could now see that his newest sibling had been cradled in his father's arms. Mosca
smiled down at the infant with overwhelming love.

"The only reason you chose her is because she looks like you," Aaron spat.

Mosca looked at him in surprise. "Of course not, chico, though it is undeniable
that we resemble each other. But she is an intelligent little baby, isn't she?" 

As if on cue, the child woke up. Aaron stared at her. Her large eyes, like Mosca's, were
silver-gray, and seemed to glow in the dark. Aaron's own black eyes flashed.

"Yes, I suppose so," he said quietly, and left to his own bed on the other side of the

Mosca was perplexed. What was that about? he wondered, settling back into his
chair. But he didn't think about it for long. Soon Mosca's eyes were pulled down by sleep.
However, his daughter remained awake, as if guarding him. Perhaps she was the only reason
that Aaron did not kill his father that night.

[this isn't the complete first chapter...]

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