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Bonjour...
Kaarnos


Stats Name Kaarnos
Kaarnos (Car-n-ous)


Alias Kaarn
Age 18½
Species Wolf / lupe
HumanSev(Seveh)

Description

Coat Dark grey with a white face and paws
Stripes Black and off white on scarf
Markings dark grey base coat with a white face and paws , on the face is mime like markings under his eyes
Eyes Deep blood red
Accesories A long blood stained scarf , and a small French hat







:Helping others.
: His past.



Intro


In the back ally way in Paris behind the many French restaurant cowers a distinct marked dog hiding from light, life and sound. Leaned up agents a dumpster shunned form all designated hope is where this sad story begins of a lone rebel looking for a way out of the life he was born in to.

The History

All school year your mind was in a daze thinking of the summer to come and how your family promise to send you off to France , Paris France to be exact, to stay with a new found long lost Uncle who supposedly died in World War II but didn't and some how ended up in France... But you could care less! Your going to be there in less than a hour ! The thought of fresh baguets and croissant hot off the bakers oven warming your sole like a smile from a small child not knowing how life will only get worse as we get older.

FAST FORWARD

The eight hour flight flew bye , all you remember sleeping , playing the on-flight system and learning a bit of french from one of the flight attendants, such as,

Hello=Bonjour
How much/many?=Combien?
Yes=Oui
No=Non
Have a nice day!=Bonne journée!

Just enough to get you to your uncles house.

FAST FORWARD

Pulling up to a dank ally you smile at the cab driver and nod you head, over paying the man and exiting the cab you blurt out Bonne journée! in a thick all most unrecognizable American accent as the cab pulls off. It was dark and wet , the ground covered in a coat of nightly rain giving the cobble stone roads a horror movie affect. Translation guide tucked underarm you look around, not a street name or number in sight. Sighing you look around for a friendly person to help you, yet the streets are barren and clung to by a small mist dancing at you ankles like a childish cloud not old enough to join the others crawling over the moon. Dark ally ways plastered with the wondering eyes of the stray cats and rats. Not moving an inch you look around ... So this is what you were dreaming of? All those days of all most failing algebra because you were doodling stick figures with little French hats on, for this?! The golden streets form your mind laden with expensive coffee shops and a bakery on every corner were seemingly untrue, the thought of the Eiffel tower being visible form every spot near Paris was totally off, yet you couldn't tell now if it was possible to see as the foggy clouds slept on the rooftops. Come on pull your self together" whispering to yourself in secrecy afraid the rats and cats might hear your petty cry for help.

Yet in this land of broken dream a ray of hope , out of the corner of your eyes you see a figure walk in to the near by ally way a long black and gray scarf fluttering in to the darkness as you precede to follow. The soft 'tap tap' of your shoes echoes off the buildings so quiet its like a ghost town. As you near the ally way the figure walked in to you hear a rummaging noise of trash can lids and metal and glass cans hitting the cobble stone floor. You stop to listen to the rummaging as a small French tune reaches your ear...

Une petite fille Sort marchant dans la nuit UN petits Appels de garçon, le bon soir De la lumière qu'Ils arrêtent parler pour juste un pendant qu'Alors elle est allée

Une petite fille s'Assied à côté de son volet de fenêtre Pensant d'un soir sous la pluie UN petit discours, un petit garçon Alors elle est allée

Une petite fille Sort marchant de nouvel UNE petites Découvertes de garçon qu'il a fait pareil Ils arrêtent de parler pour juste un pendant qu'Alors ils sont allés..

A lovely singing voice, such a sweet tune must mean a kind person. You step forward your eyes adjusting to the dimming light. Whipping out your translating book you flip through the pages and stop skimming down

Pouvez-vous m'aider? / Tu peux m'aider? poo-vay voo meh-day /
tew puh meh-day
Can you help me? (formal / informal)

Pardonnez-moi!
pahr-dohn-nay-mwah
Excuse me!

You sound it out under your breath for a moment or two before you speak upPardonnez-moi, Tu peux m'aider? once more your American accent hindering your speech you wait for the reply. Ready to reserch the words that flow from the mans mouth you eagerly open your book.Comment? Oh, Bonsoir Bien Mon nom est Kaarn, sûr. After the response you thumb through your book looking for the words but to no avail. You step forward , the man was wearing what seemed to be a dark grey shaggy fur coat and a striped scarf with small white shoes or socks on, he wasn't very tall and had his head stuck in a dumpster , you guessed looking for food. Turning to a useful page you once more mumble the words under your breath till they sound about right.

Je (ne) comprends (pas)
zhuh nuh kohm-prawn pah I (don't) understand

Tu parles anglais ? tew parl on-glay Do you speak English? (informal)

Je (ne) parle (pas)... zhuh nuh parl pah I (don't) speak...

Très bien / mal / pas mal treh bee-ahn / mahl / pah mahl Very good / bad / not bad

Je ne comprends pas, Tu parles anglais ? Je ne parle pas français très bien. agene you American accent cracking the French language like a whip, you did your best and prayed he knew English.

Yes , And I said, good evening my name is Kaarn and yes I could help you" His accent wasnt all that strong it had a bit of American twang its self, the man continued to rummage thought the trash.

You sigh and look at the man Thank goodness! Im looking for my uncles house, heres the address you reach in to your back pocket and pull out a slip of paper with and wait for the man to take it.

Yet as the kinda man begins to turn around you see him lower him self to all fours and turn and what seems to be a bushy tail drags the ground as you lean forward and squint you see the face of a dog painted up like a mime the large striped scarf tasseled at his neck. Your jaw must have hit the floor because the creature quickly replied Doth though not feel the same for this old man once rummaging though the filth and squaller to now be a dog? he chuckled , his mouth lips and tongue moved with every word you studied him I guess you want to know how I got this way he asked quite casually. Nodding your head and forgetting for a moment about your Uncle you get engulfed in the life story of this odd fellow

Born in to poverty I knew I would never amount to anything, My mother and I were stuck in a traveling freak show going from city to city around the many sides of Europe. Along with the tigers and lions that pase in there cages back and forth all day every day back and forth. My mother was one of them, plunking my small body in the center of the cage she would walk back and forth back and forth. She had the same markings as me, a white face and white paws she was a trick dog, taught to work alongside the ring master who had a knack for mimery he painted my mothers eyes just like his and forced her to learn the ways of the trade, and once my stubby legs could hold me up I was in the show business. The fake rope trick, stuck in a box, the fake ball, and some how I mastered the moonwalk. he laughed. Yes life seemed good not knowing anything out side of what I had. My eyes were soon painfully and permanently tattooed to my upped and lower eyes lids, my mother and I were the cash crop of the show. But soon the feds found out about the ringleader's cruel and harsh treatment to his animals and was forced to surrender his large cats. Business slowed to a stand still, freaks of all shapes and sizes quit till only me and my mother were left. Are leader soon fell short of money and we were on the streets doing petty work begging for money and not receiving much. The mime act was all washed up.

My mother and I soon began to loose fath, the young sparkle in my mothers eyes soon became a dull nothingness, yet she gave it her all every day working for a small scrap of food at the end of the day. The job had became a part of her , like when she was younger she would pase, now her life was in a washed up act on the corner of streets.

Life was dull and pointless, Yet every night my mother would tell me some day we'll hit it big and be the stars we once were, I dare not tell her that we were never stars just freaks it seemed to be the only thing keeping her living. Bless her sole, she is no longer with us ... Yet I keep her in my memories by wearing what's left of her kindness in this scarf she used in her acts ... he looked down at the scarf witch hung firmly around his neck and sighed.

Alone now in this cruel world, much as you were moments ago, it is easy to find France a complex world very cruel and unforgiving as well. About a year has past since my mothers death and I have traveled the 'world' as some might say, I went form coast to coast from the snow of up north to the chilled waters of Nice near Italy, very pleasant traveling hundreds or thousands of miles by stowaway or by foot. But nothing was close to home like good old Parie He smiled though the people smell funny and its an all around crude place I love the night life down town, its nothing like this seen out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie, He clucked No not at all, the sky if full of lights and lavish restaurants line the side walks, buildings with ally ways so small you might think they were kissing. Ah and the Eiffel tower so grand and tall, magnificent, I recommend you go see it. So kid off to see your Uncle? he asked

You nod as he steps forward in to the light, he was a good looking dog no scars or scratches just a but strange and kinda spooky seeing as how he could talk yet never the less a kind hearted fellow. He sat down and looked you in the eye There is nothing to a life story but a beginning and an end, what happens in-between is up to you. As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. he looked you dead in the eyes clearly he was serious and wanted you to take this to heart. Looking at your hand he sees the numbers on the slip of paper and smiled Follow the cobble-stone side walk for about a block and turn left, you cant miss the nice french high class apartments your Uncle lives in. I wish you the best of lick and summer love in Paris, just remember, in life there is nothing more then a beginning and an end and right now your lost in the middle so fill the pages in your life story with fun and adventure...

with those words in mind you start your walk down the cobble-stone path the dim street lights reflecting off the water. Every thing was looking up with the kinda soles words still in mind you make it safely to your destination and will never look at a mime the same, his kinda loving heart not muffled by his occupation he spoke his sole and meant yours , be blessed with the freedom of speech that others only dream of, speak your mind and never let the man get you down. you Whisper under your breath a fond farewell to your dear friend

Bonne journée...
Friends

To Come ….

Family

To Come ….
Toy Box

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