AB Chapter 1: I Am Private Property
This world was—
Noisy.
An old radio buzzed in a smoky basement, doors crashed open, flashbangs exploded, mingling with curses and gunfire.
A foul stench.
The air was thin, oppressive.
A cage.
A stinky blanket.
Buzzing—stuffed into his throat, mouth, ears.
This world was—
Noisy.
So noisy it made you want to vomit.
“Freeze! NY (Interstellar Police)! Palms down! Everyone on the floor!”
“We’ve got injured! Get a stretcher—quick!”
“Oh my God…”
“Officer Jasmine, quick! Here’s a black-haired Asian kid—Jesus, they’re trafficking Earth humans?!”
“Damn alien smugglers—fuck! Take the kid, get him to a doctor!”
“Don’t be scared—come here, sweetheart, you’re safe now…”
A white female officer bent down. Her dark blue uniform shimmered with metal buttons, brown curls falling as her fingers reached into the cold cage—warm with human touch.
Slight warmth. But enough.
The stiff little boy looked at her shiny buttons with his dark eyes, as if he liked them. He reached out to touch—only to be grabbed by surprise.
So cold!
The woman shuddered at how icy his hand was, but didn’t let go. Her eyes reddened as she saw his thin white pajamas.
It was snowing outside—how cold it must be!
With pity, she gently pulled him out and held him close.
As the officer passed the alien smugglers, she coldly stepped on one of their hands.
The creature—humanoid, monstrous—shouted something broken in Earth language:
“Not…human… he, seed… seed!”
The NY officers thought he was being provocative. He dared to smuggle humans—calling them “seeds”? Furious, they sedated him on the spot.
The female officer gritted her teeth, holding the boy tight, and left the lightless basement.
Outside—blinding sunlight. White snow everywhere.
Clean air. Full oxygen. His breath steamed up in the cold.
It smelled better.
He was given pink bunny slippers (courtesy of a kind nurse), and now sat at the edge of a sterile white hospital bed while a bald doctor examined him.
The officer stood in the corner, her gaze calm and comforting.
But the boy remained blank, drinking the sweet drink in small sips—like a mute android.
His world was still chaos.
The real-world noise had ended, but it echoed in his mind.
Plant-based brains were fragile in childhood. On his home planet, plant-species children needed quiet, colorless environments—or else a carnivore-species partner had to buy a breeding pouch and carry them by the chest, where a heartbeat could soothe their sensitive nerves.
But no one here—not even the boy—knew he wasn’t human…
The doctor lifted his stained white pajama top—then froze.
He called the officer over. She frowned and leaned closer, then went silent.
Milk-white skin.
Tiny blue letters, like a compressed clothing tag.
Seed Type: Rare species
ID: no.9604100965
Private Property — Simon’s Exclusive
Riiing riiiiing—
A phone ringtone jolted awake a dazed young man with black hair and eyes. He sat curled on a sofa, thin and long-limbed, eyes unfocused on the TV.
He picked up the call. A cheerful voice yanked him back to reality.
His dark eyes lit up again.
“Michel! You skipped your psych appointment again! The doctor called me! He doesn’t bite, you know!”
It was a warm, chiding tone.
Michel smiled faintly.
“Aunt Jasmine, I’m fine. Don’t worry. There are patients who need help more than I do.”
Jasmine leaned against an NY police car, holding coffee in one hand. She rolled her eyes.
“Don’t lie to me! Your Twitter and photo wall are blank. Are you having nightmares again? Feeling out of it?”
“Michel, you’re 21. You’re about to graduate. You’re an independent human being. You belong to no one. You’re free.”
Michel’s smile disappeared.
“I know, Aunt Jasmine. Don’t worry. It’s just graduation stress. I’ll eat properly—you take care too. The Interstellar Police can skip weekends, but they can’t lose our hardworking Officer Jasmine.”
“You brat!”
They laughed. Then she had to hang up under her partner’s nagging.
Michel put the phone down.
But his expression remained blank.
He crossed the room in his bunny slippers, fetched a glass of warm water, and returned to bed.
He scrolled through social media.
Other people’s lives: joy, anger, sadness, excitement.
But not his.
I’m not like them.
I don’t belong here.
I shouldn’t be alone.
Someone—please save me…
He tried to sleep it off. Maybe the dreams would stop.
But this time was different.
Michel’s neck throbbed with pain. Heat and numbness overwhelmed him. Cold sweat soaked his sheets.
He moaned, body shaking uncontrollably.
Red nosebleed streamed down his cheeks.
His veins bulged like plant roots—purple and blue, crawling over his body.
He couldn’t open his eyes.
His mouth cracked, lips bloodied, teeth stained red.
Finally—
After half an hour, it stopped.
Like a zombie, he stood up, chugged the full glass of water, and collapsed back into bed.
But atop his head, from his sweat-matted black hair…
A tiny green sprout peeked out.
Five petals, wilted and weak—
Like a sad little flower.
Author’s Note:
Not sure if you’ll vibe with this writing style, lol.
I’m a bit unhinged, each story’s different.
This is my first time writing something Western-drama-inspired—please be kind!
And… do you like dad-type boyfriends? 🐶
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