The flight panel was HUGE. Zarin couldn't stop himself from staring around it in wide-eyed fascination. There had to be a million people bustling around in the main lobby, and that wasn't even including the other hangers and hallways and everything else. People were shouting, throwing things, glaring at each other, as well as smiling and passing money back and forth. Zarin knew he shouldn't just stand there looking like a awestruck newborn, but part of him couldn't help it. It was like being shoved into an overturned beehive. He was just waiting for them all to turn on him like wasps.
The little ticket felt heavy in his hand, like it was made of something more then just paper. Where the crap was he supposed to go? There were so many different hallways and roadways to different places he wasn't entirely sure where they could all be going. Why would anyone ever need this amount of choices? This was ridiculous. And unfair. He was only trying to get to Roonib.
“Are you lost son?” someone asked. He turned toward them, biting the inside of his lip. The term ‘don’t talk to strangers’ flashed through his mind, and he almost laughed. Like any of those stupid little phrases mattered anymore. If they took him away they’d only be doing him a favor.
“How do I get to Roonib?” he asked, showing the person his ticket, “Flight seventy eight? What does that even mean?”
“You’re going to Roonib?” It was a woman. Zarin couldn't help but think that her response was ridiculously unhelpful. She was tall, her hair graying at the temples and giving her a severe look. She didn't look necessarily old, but she wasn't particularly young either. She fixed him with a look, as though trying to see into the twelve year old. Zarin put on his best smile, which probably made him look like he was about to steal her shoes.
“Yes,” when he was younger, Kaylynn had taught him to always address his elders by their proper titles. “Sir,” “Ma'am” “Mr.” or “Mrs.” it didn't matter, as long as he said them, and said them respectably. Then again, he'd always had a problem with authority. “Didn't I just say that?”
“That doesn’t exactly seem like a very good place to be now does it?” The woman questioned, “Why are you going there?”
“For the fantastic atmosphere,” Zarin said, scowling.
“Are you meeting someone there?”
“No.”
“Are you transferring to a different flight and going to a different planet, after you reach there?”
“NO! I just want to go to the criminal planet. It'll be a wonderful vacation. Where’s the hanger?” Zarin twirled his ticket impatiently, wanting nothing more than to get out of there. Actually, he wanted to go home. But that wasn't really an option either. The woman narrowed her eyes, considering him, then pointed him to the right corridor.. Zarin didn’t bother to thank her. The woman frowned as the boy marched away. She could see him shivering slightly, but didn't think it was from the cold. What was that child's story? She couldn't imagine why anyone would allow a child to go to Roonib.
A young boy walked up to her, a strut to his step. He paused and followed the woman's gaze, looking out after Zarin.
“At first glance he seems so young and innocent. And then he opens his mouth. . .” She sighed, shaking her head.
“Who is he?” The boy asked, frowning.
“I don’t know, but trust me, with looks like his and with the place he’s going, we’ll see him again.” she smiled, her slightly wrinkled face tightening. “We will definitely see him again.”
Zarin's palms felt sweaty, something he was trying fervently to ignore. Sweaty palms meant he was nervous, which he wasn't. Life was going to be just fine. He could already imagine his mother coming through the doors and rounding on him, probably yelling at him for leaving without even saying goodbye and then explaining that he actually was needed at home and they couldn't manage without him.
A pretty blond flight attendant walked up the aisle and stopped next to his chair, she smiled, “Hey, do you need any help with the seat latch?” her hand reached out to pull the buckle closed. Zarin snarled, his upper lip curling to reveal teeth.
“Leave me alone,” he growled, “I'm fine.” The woman jumped slightly, looking down at him then hurrying off. His entire body felt like it was shaking now. He pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to curl into as small a ball as physically possible. Why was she taking so long? Whenever Zarin ran away, Kaylynn would follow and bring him home. It happened every single time. Without fail. Where was she? Zarin could feel his heart pounding in his chest, he wondered if the entire shuttle could hear it. It was only ten minutes until lift off. She had better come soon if. . . she’d better hurry or the spaceship would leave.
And take him to Roonib.
Panic flashed through him like fire. He could feel it twist his stomach and burn through his insides. Roonib. The criminal planet. The planet where someone went when they wanted to escape the Emperor's laws. The planet that thrived off murder and theft and scams. It would be amazing, finally being somewhere he would really belong. They sold slaves under the table and beat children on the streets, just because they could. There was no law in Roonib. No prisons, or at least so he'd heard. He would fit right in, it would be amazing. Zarin tried to calm his breathing, tried to make his heart stop pounding, but it wasn't working. He had heard that the sky rained acid and there were no trees or vegetation on the entire planet. It was just mindless city, sprawled throughout everywhere. All powerful and all consuming. How was he supposed to survive. . . No! He would always survive.
The engine began to hum, making the seats vibrate and sending a tingling up Zarin's spine. Wher was she?! Why wasn't she coming for him? Surely his own mother wasn't going to let him. . . Wasn't going to. . . The image of Kaylynn's disappointed face looked back at him from his mind's eye. Her green eyes were the exact same shade as Kelly's, they would fill with tears when they looked at him, her face was as blank as a stone.
“Stop it!” He tried to keep himself from screaming, but only barely managed to keep his voice down. He needed to get out. This was a mistake. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. He needed to go. . .home?
His heart was still pounding, so he dug his fingers into his hair, trying to pierce the scalp. I'm fine, he thought, breathing deeply, I'm fine. Calm down, breathe, calm. He hadn't felt this panicked since the police had arrested him. The cell had been horrible; small, damp, and confining. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't able to get out. When the police had caught him while robbing the jewelry store, he hadn't been prepared, hadn't listened to his instincts enough to escape them. He’d been robbing from jewelry stores for six months, trying to get something nice for the girl down the road. Katie had wanted a ring from this particular store. The store that had gotten him caught. She had been reaping the spoils from Zarin’s excursions continuously since he'd decided he was in love with her. It was surprising to him that the love and infatuation that had filled him during the past six months had vanished the moment the police’s flashlight had shined into his eyes and the cuffs had been snapped on his wrists.
The cuffs had been bad. They rubbed his wrists, binding and confining him. His hands were always free roamers, picking up random objects and sticking them in his pockets or even just moving them to a different locations. The cuffs had prevented all of that. He hadn't been able to get them off, and the panic had nearly sent him into a frenzy. But when they had thrown him into that cell. . . Zarin closed his eyes, his breathing beginning to calm, as he rested his sweaty forehead against his knees. He wasn't in the cell now. He wasn't bound, he could get away. But he didn't want to. He wanted to go to Roonib, it was where thieves like him lived. It was where he was supposed to be.
“Are you sitting all by yourself?” someone asked. It was a young woman. Probably in her twenties. Zarin didn't bother looking up to assess anything more than that. His gaze remained on his lap.
“Yes.” What did she want?
“Can I sit here?”
“No?”
“Oh, sorry.” she moved on. What was that about? Did he look that incapable? But he was capable, and he’d prove it to them. He’d prove it to all of them that Zarin Clyde. . .
Clyde?
“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts, we’re about to take off and everyone must remain seated and buckled in until we’ve cleared the atmosphere, thank you.” the pilots voice clicked off the intercom. Everyone in the seats around Zarin began to buckle their seat belts. With a slightly quivering stomach, Zarin clicked the belt around his waist. The craft began to shutter harder, the engines really gaining power. Where was Kaylynn? Was she really not coming?
“Mom?” he whispered. Surely she would come. She had to come. She wouldn’t just leave him here. Would she?
The roar of the shuttle reached its peak. The large space bird began lifting itself up from the ground and heading toward the sky. The weight of the world crashed onto Zarin’s small shoulders, forcing him back in his seat. Gravity pushed down on him and for a moment he thought the weight would tear his lips down below his teeth.
It went faster and faster, picking up speed as it went higher. He sneaked a small peek out the window to his side and saw the ground rapidly getting further and further away. Planes were taking off from the airport next to the flight station, they looked tiny in comparison with the large space birds taking off next door.
Zarin shifted his gaze from the ground to the sky. The faint blue of early morning was rapidly changing to deep black. An eternal night sky was stretching out before him, the stars glittering in greeting.
And to his surprise, he liked it.
Soon Earth had disappeared behind him. The small blue green planet dwindling until it was smaller and smaller and then gone. Kaylynn didn’t come. Kelly didn’t wave at him from the mountain. But a whole universe stretched out before him. A new chance. New people. And with new people came loose pockets.
After all, Zarin was, first and foremost, a thief. And he wouldn’t stop thieving. Not for anything. Not for anyone. Nobody could stop him and he liked it that way. He could do this. He would do this, and prove to the universe that he didn’t need his family. He didn’t need his parents. He didn’t need Kelly. He didn't need anyone.
Zarin put his head on his knees so no one around would be able to see, and began to cry.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Zarin: prologue
This is the prologue to my novel. I've been working on it and want to know what people think. I'm hoping to get this one published as an actual book someday. A lot of people have read this, but a lot haven't as well. So enjoy! Tell me what you think.
The rain poured. Drops fell on the soggy ground, soaking through the blades of grass and forcing the dirt into mud. Large, black clouds covered the sky, rolling and turning in anguish. A fork of lightning broke through the blackness, illuminating one, small figure. She was sitting on the side of a mountain, staring down at the tiny house nestled against the cliff's edge.
The house was lonely looking, the darkness pressing against it on all sides. The light from the windows reached outward into the night, but were quickly swallowed up, leaving only shadows. If nothing else, it looked warm and dry, but the girl didn’t make a move towards it. Her chin rested on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her bare legs for warmth. The rain clung to her hair and clothing, sending little rivers down her skin. She was shivering, though she was trying desperately not to. The mud should have helped to stop the cold, at least a little.
Kelly Clyde didn't want to go home. She didn't want to go to that little house, to see her mother and father. She was only eight, but she felt as though she'd aged a lot in the past few hours. If she had a remote to control time, she would rewind it and change everything. She would have stopped him from leaving. She would have stopped them from fighting. She would have done. . . something.
But it was to late now. He was gone forever.
***
“Kelly, move!” Kaylynn ordered. Kelly jumped out of the doorway, making room for the older woman.
“What’s happening Mom?” She whispered, “Is. . .?”
“I don’t know,” Kaylynn answered, biting her lip. Kelly didn’t want to move from the front door, but knew her father would be home soon. And the last time she had seen him, he hadn’t looked too happy. But then, he wouldn’t be. As if Zarin hadn’t disobeyed him enough.
The door smashed open, making Kelly squeak and hide behind her mother. A large imposing figure stood there, drenched from the rain. He wore a large dark beard that covered over half his face. His eyes a steely gray. Derek Clyde was an intimidating sight on the best of circumstances, with his large leather boots, pants and jacket. But now he had an expression of pure rage lighting his heavy set features, his hand holding the scruff of a young boy. A boy with a devilish smirk and his fathers eyes. Zarin grinned at his little sister as his father threw him into the room. Like a cat, he twisted around and caught himself before he could fall. A little absentmindedly, he rubbed the back of his neck where Derek had been holding him.
“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?” Derek growled, “After everything we’ve told you, after everything you’ve done. . .”
“I’d tell you I’m starving.” Zarin pipped in, smirking, “Prison food sucks.”
“Zarin!” Kaylynn warned. The boy threw a sidelong glance at his mother, it was a look full of the boy's usual confidence and arrogance. Kelly wanted to smack it of his face.
“We told you to stop your pick pocketing!” Derek screamed, his face cracking and eyes bulging out of his head. Three huge steps brought him right in front of his son. As fast as Zarin was, he still didn’t see the blow coming until it was too late. Derek’s slap snapped the boy’s head back and sent him flying. He crashed to the ground on his back, stunned. For a moment he didn’t move, then he jumped to his feet, swaying, but trying not to show it. His gray eyes blazed, the devilish mouth ground into a hard line.
“It wasn’t just a pick pocketing,” he told them, “I full on robbed a jewelry store. Not for the first time either. I’ve stolen things a million times and you’ve never known about it. Of course, if you weren’t so stupid you’d let me steal stuff and we wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore! Or anything! You’re just too stupid to think that maybe bending the rules a little isn’t such a bad thing!”
“You’re not bending them boy! You’re breaking them and enjoying it!” Derek yelled, his face was purple and his eyes looked every bit as angry as the boy's. Zarin laughed, the sound only sounding slightly forced. Kelly silently pleaded that Derek wouldn't hit him again.
“Zarin stop it!” Kelly yelled, Zarin looked directly at her for the first time and smiled. It wasn’t a smirk, but an honest smile, like they were sharing a secret. Kelly knew Zarin better then any other person in the world. He was an obnoxious show off and smart mouth, but she knew that he didn’t want his father to hate him, he just wasn’t willing to let go of some of his ‘hobbies.’
“Sorry Dad, but I am who I am, and I’m not going to change.” Kelly put her head in her hands, Zarin’s tone of voice was infuriating. But it was true, he would never change. He was too pig-headed.
“Is that so, boy?” Everything went silent. Zarin shifted his feet uneasily, for once seeming to use his head to think for a second. Nobody moved, Kaylynn didn't even seem to be breathing.
“Yeah, Dad.” Zarin finally said. He stood up as tall as his twelve year old body could hold itself. “Yeah it is. I'm a thief. And a blasted good one.” Kelly swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her mouth.
“Zarin. . . ? Please. . .” Her brother didn't even look at her.
“Well then,” Derek spoke very softly, but he might as well have been shouting. “You’ve left me with no other option, boy. Get out.” Zarin blew out a breath, his face going from arrogant to confused.
“What?”
“Get. Out.” Derek breathed again. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt flinging him around and shoving him toward the door. Zarin flew through the air like he was nothing but luggage. He stumbled, banging his shoulder against the wall and almost falling. His eyes were huge, smart-mouth working silently.
“Derek. . .” Kaylynn started but her husband cut her off.
“No, this is it, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of his attitude, I’m sick of his habits and to be frank, I’m sick of him. Twelve years this boy has lived under my roof, and twelve years was too many. Get out Zarin. And don’t come back.”
“You can’t do that!” Zarin finally managed to yell.
“I’ll do what I please! This is my house!” Derek yelled back. He thrust his hand into his pocket, pulling out a handful of bills. “Take the money and get. Go to Roonib, where they'll appreciate your stupidity.”
“Derek!” Kaylynn plead, reaching out to grab her husband's arm, but he pushed her away. “You. . .”
“No, Kaylynn.” He moved his glare from Zarin to his wife. Kelly could have sworn there was a bit of moisture hiding behind that gaze, “I'm done with him. He's no longer my son.” He thrust the money toward Zarin, who snatched it out of his hands. Zarin's lips were peeled back, he almost seemed like a cornered animal, snarling.
“FINE!” he said, “I don’t want to be here anyway. I hate you all! You’re all just a stupid bunch of morons with no brains!” The boy bolted for the door, throwing it open and running out into the rain. Kelly tried to follow but her father grabbed her arm.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold, Kaylynn,” He told her, using her full name which made Kelly jump slightly. She stared at him, hesitant, then yanked her arm free and ran through the doorway after her brother. Zarin hadn’t gotten far. He was staring down the road toward town. The rain had already soaked through his black hair, already sending trails of water down the back of his shirt.
They didn't look anything alike. Where Zarin had a tall frame and broad shoulders, Kelly was short and thin as a reed. Zarin had gray eyes and midnight hair, while Kelly had emerald eyes and was platinum blond. But he was her brother. Her best friend. And now he looked all alone.
“Zarin?” Kelly whispered, taking his hand.
“I didn't mean it.” he said.
“I know you didn't.”
“I don't really hate them.”
“I know.”
“No, Kelly, you don't!” He pulled his hand away from hers, “You don't get it. I’m only twelve,” he took a deep breath, “I can’t do this.”
“He wasn’t serious,” Something was blocking her throat, and the night seemed a lot warmer, “Come back, he’ll forgive you, you'll see! Just don’t steal anymore!” She reached out to take his hand again but he jerked away.
“No,” he said, his face hardening in a look all too familiar, “I won’t stop. I can’t.”
“Yes you can!” She wanted to beat him, wanted to bang her fists against him until he listened. Until he really listened! “You just don’t want to!” Kelly could feel the tears threatening to overflow. A sob wrenched itself from her chest. Everything was wrong, it was all falling apart! “Don’t leave Zarin, please!”
“I have to Kelly," he said, looking away, blinking his own eyes rather quickly. "I'm not wanted here."
"He didn't mean it Zarin! He was just mad! Wait and see, he'll come out and tell you not to go! I know he will!"
"It's too late, Kelly." The tears finally overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. She brought her hands to wipe them way, but only ended up crying harder. Zarin reached out and hugged her tightly, "I'm sorry Kelly," he whispered.
"How will you live Zarin?" she cried, "What will you do? What will you eat? Where will you sleep?!" Zarin stayed silent until she was almost done crying. then he gently tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.
"Kaylynn," he said, calling her by her full name for the first time, causing her to swallow nervously, "do you remember yesterday, when you wanted me to go looking for the newborn glarenine in the mountains?” she nodded, “I want you to go and find them. I want you to take one of the pups and raise it, just like we always said we would one day. And when you worry about me, or wonder if I'm okay, or if I'm even alive, I want you to take care of the pup. It'll be like a good luck charm." He smiled, and even in the darkness she could tell that it was one sided and crooked. She nodded, her eyes still red.
"What. . .will I name it?" she hiccuped.
"Well. . . if it's a girl, name her. . . Jinx."
"Jinx?"
"Yes, because all girls are Jinx's." he teased, forcing a small giggle from her.
"And if it's a boy?"
"If it's a boy. . . Call him Link. Because that's what he'll be, a link between you and me." He smiled and ruffled her hair. She forced herself to smile, but let it drop off her face when Zarin's back was turned. He straightened his shoulders and began to walk, the rain shrouding his figure until there was nothing but pouring moisture. Mud squashed beneath her bare toes, her hair fell down her face in ringlets. She watched him grow smaller and smaller, until his smudge completely vanished. She didn't move from that spot for a long time. She ignored her father's call. Ignored her mother’s pleading voice.. She just stood there, wondering if she would ever see her brother come back.
But he wouldn’t. He would never come back.
“Kelly?” Derek called, the sound of his large boots hitting the mud reached her before he did. He placed a large hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, “I promise Kelly, it had to happen. I’m sorry.” For a moment, it appeared as though tears threatened Derek as well. Kelly felt her shoulders begin to shake. Felt the horror of what had happened break over her, crushing her.
“No you're not,” she whispered, jerking away from his grip, “You’re not sorry, you won’t ever be sorry, and I’ll never, ever forgive you!” She turned and ran, the mountain was only feet from her, and she scrambled up it like a mountain goat.
Derek watched his daughter flee. He didn’t go after her. Instead he stared down the road his son had taken. “I’m sorry Zarin,” he whispered, “but you’ll learn. Maybe the world can force you to learn.”
Kelly dug her fingers into the loosening dirt of the mountain, pulling herself up further and further. She would find the glarenine. She would find the little creatures of light and raise one of the pups. She would take care of it and if she took care of it then maybe the gods would take care of Zarin.
It didn’t take long to find the little cubby hole in the rock she had spotted the day earlier. She dug at it, ignoring the father glarenine coming out to protect its family. He wasn’t a real protector, he just did whatever he wanted. No matter what the consequences of it was. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that it hurt people or made her fingers bleed or her heart cry out in pain. That stupid little father glarenine had no idea what it was doing. Had no idea that her family. . . that her family. . .
Tears clogged her vision again, choking her. She pulled her hands away from the hole. The male glarenine bared its sharp teeth at her before scrambling back into its den. Glarenine’s were like little foxes with burning blood and glowing skin. They weren’t native to Earth. They had been shipped here a long time ago, and now were as common as rats. Kelly turned away. Curling into a ball at the top of the mountain.
There was no other sound beyond the pouring of the rain. The mud coated Kelly's arms and legs, soaking her through. The clouds churned, rumbling overhead, and lightning split the heavens like the hand of god. Kelly didn't move, barely seemed to breathe, as she looked down the mountainside to the little house that barely stood out against the night. She never wanted to go back there again. She didn't want to return to her parents, didn't want to see their faces. Not when he wasn't there anymore. Not now that her family was broken.
Because he was gone now. He was gone forever.
The rain poured. Drops fell on the soggy ground, soaking through the blades of grass and forcing the dirt into mud. Large, black clouds covered the sky, rolling and turning in anguish. A fork of lightning broke through the blackness, illuminating one, small figure. She was sitting on the side of a mountain, staring down at the tiny house nestled against the cliff's edge.
The house was lonely looking, the darkness pressing against it on all sides. The light from the windows reached outward into the night, but were quickly swallowed up, leaving only shadows. If nothing else, it looked warm and dry, but the girl didn’t make a move towards it. Her chin rested on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her bare legs for warmth. The rain clung to her hair and clothing, sending little rivers down her skin. She was shivering, though she was trying desperately not to. The mud should have helped to stop the cold, at least a little.
Kelly Clyde didn't want to go home. She didn't want to go to that little house, to see her mother and father. She was only eight, but she felt as though she'd aged a lot in the past few hours. If she had a remote to control time, she would rewind it and change everything. She would have stopped him from leaving. She would have stopped them from fighting. She would have done. . . something.
But it was to late now. He was gone forever.
***
“Kelly, move!” Kaylynn ordered. Kelly jumped out of the doorway, making room for the older woman.
“What’s happening Mom?” She whispered, “Is. . .?”
“I don’t know,” Kaylynn answered, biting her lip. Kelly didn’t want to move from the front door, but knew her father would be home soon. And the last time she had seen him, he hadn’t looked too happy. But then, he wouldn’t be. As if Zarin hadn’t disobeyed him enough.
The door smashed open, making Kelly squeak and hide behind her mother. A large imposing figure stood there, drenched from the rain. He wore a large dark beard that covered over half his face. His eyes a steely gray. Derek Clyde was an intimidating sight on the best of circumstances, with his large leather boots, pants and jacket. But now he had an expression of pure rage lighting his heavy set features, his hand holding the scruff of a young boy. A boy with a devilish smirk and his fathers eyes. Zarin grinned at his little sister as his father threw him into the room. Like a cat, he twisted around and caught himself before he could fall. A little absentmindedly, he rubbed the back of his neck where Derek had been holding him.
“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?” Derek growled, “After everything we’ve told you, after everything you’ve done. . .”
“I’d tell you I’m starving.” Zarin pipped in, smirking, “Prison food sucks.”
“Zarin!” Kaylynn warned. The boy threw a sidelong glance at his mother, it was a look full of the boy's usual confidence and arrogance. Kelly wanted to smack it of his face.
“We told you to stop your pick pocketing!” Derek screamed, his face cracking and eyes bulging out of his head. Three huge steps brought him right in front of his son. As fast as Zarin was, he still didn’t see the blow coming until it was too late. Derek’s slap snapped the boy’s head back and sent him flying. He crashed to the ground on his back, stunned. For a moment he didn’t move, then he jumped to his feet, swaying, but trying not to show it. His gray eyes blazed, the devilish mouth ground into a hard line.
“It wasn’t just a pick pocketing,” he told them, “I full on robbed a jewelry store. Not for the first time either. I’ve stolen things a million times and you’ve never known about it. Of course, if you weren’t so stupid you’d let me steal stuff and we wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore! Or anything! You’re just too stupid to think that maybe bending the rules a little isn’t such a bad thing!”
“You’re not bending them boy! You’re breaking them and enjoying it!” Derek yelled, his face was purple and his eyes looked every bit as angry as the boy's. Zarin laughed, the sound only sounding slightly forced. Kelly silently pleaded that Derek wouldn't hit him again.
“Zarin stop it!” Kelly yelled, Zarin looked directly at her for the first time and smiled. It wasn’t a smirk, but an honest smile, like they were sharing a secret. Kelly knew Zarin better then any other person in the world. He was an obnoxious show off and smart mouth, but she knew that he didn’t want his father to hate him, he just wasn’t willing to let go of some of his ‘hobbies.’
“Sorry Dad, but I am who I am, and I’m not going to change.” Kelly put her head in her hands, Zarin’s tone of voice was infuriating. But it was true, he would never change. He was too pig-headed.
“Is that so, boy?” Everything went silent. Zarin shifted his feet uneasily, for once seeming to use his head to think for a second. Nobody moved, Kaylynn didn't even seem to be breathing.
“Yeah, Dad.” Zarin finally said. He stood up as tall as his twelve year old body could hold itself. “Yeah it is. I'm a thief. And a blasted good one.” Kelly swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her mouth.
“Zarin. . . ? Please. . .” Her brother didn't even look at her.
“Well then,” Derek spoke very softly, but he might as well have been shouting. “You’ve left me with no other option, boy. Get out.” Zarin blew out a breath, his face going from arrogant to confused.
“What?”
“Get. Out.” Derek breathed again. He reached out and grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt flinging him around and shoving him toward the door. Zarin flew through the air like he was nothing but luggage. He stumbled, banging his shoulder against the wall and almost falling. His eyes were huge, smart-mouth working silently.
“Derek. . .” Kaylynn started but her husband cut her off.
“No, this is it, I’m sick of it. I’m sick of his attitude, I’m sick of his habits and to be frank, I’m sick of him. Twelve years this boy has lived under my roof, and twelve years was too many. Get out Zarin. And don’t come back.”
“You can’t do that!” Zarin finally managed to yell.
“I’ll do what I please! This is my house!” Derek yelled back. He thrust his hand into his pocket, pulling out a handful of bills. “Take the money and get. Go to Roonib, where they'll appreciate your stupidity.”
“Derek!” Kaylynn plead, reaching out to grab her husband's arm, but he pushed her away. “You. . .”
“No, Kaylynn.” He moved his glare from Zarin to his wife. Kelly could have sworn there was a bit of moisture hiding behind that gaze, “I'm done with him. He's no longer my son.” He thrust the money toward Zarin, who snatched it out of his hands. Zarin's lips were peeled back, he almost seemed like a cornered animal, snarling.
“FINE!” he said, “I don’t want to be here anyway. I hate you all! You’re all just a stupid bunch of morons with no brains!” The boy bolted for the door, throwing it open and running out into the rain. Kelly tried to follow but her father grabbed her arm.
“I don’t want you to catch a cold, Kaylynn,” He told her, using her full name which made Kelly jump slightly. She stared at him, hesitant, then yanked her arm free and ran through the doorway after her brother. Zarin hadn’t gotten far. He was staring down the road toward town. The rain had already soaked through his black hair, already sending trails of water down the back of his shirt.
They didn't look anything alike. Where Zarin had a tall frame and broad shoulders, Kelly was short and thin as a reed. Zarin had gray eyes and midnight hair, while Kelly had emerald eyes and was platinum blond. But he was her brother. Her best friend. And now he looked all alone.
“Zarin?” Kelly whispered, taking his hand.
“I didn't mean it.” he said.
“I know you didn't.”
“I don't really hate them.”
“I know.”
“No, Kelly, you don't!” He pulled his hand away from hers, “You don't get it. I’m only twelve,” he took a deep breath, “I can’t do this.”
“He wasn’t serious,” Something was blocking her throat, and the night seemed a lot warmer, “Come back, he’ll forgive you, you'll see! Just don’t steal anymore!” She reached out to take his hand again but he jerked away.
“No,” he said, his face hardening in a look all too familiar, “I won’t stop. I can’t.”
“Yes you can!” She wanted to beat him, wanted to bang her fists against him until he listened. Until he really listened! “You just don’t want to!” Kelly could feel the tears threatening to overflow. A sob wrenched itself from her chest. Everything was wrong, it was all falling apart! “Don’t leave Zarin, please!”
“I have to Kelly," he said, looking away, blinking his own eyes rather quickly. "I'm not wanted here."
"He didn't mean it Zarin! He was just mad! Wait and see, he'll come out and tell you not to go! I know he will!"
"It's too late, Kelly." The tears finally overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. She brought her hands to wipe them way, but only ended up crying harder. Zarin reached out and hugged her tightly, "I'm sorry Kelly," he whispered.
"How will you live Zarin?" she cried, "What will you do? What will you eat? Where will you sleep?!" Zarin stayed silent until she was almost done crying. then he gently tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him.
"Kaylynn," he said, calling her by her full name for the first time, causing her to swallow nervously, "do you remember yesterday, when you wanted me to go looking for the newborn glarenine in the mountains?” she nodded, “I want you to go and find them. I want you to take one of the pups and raise it, just like we always said we would one day. And when you worry about me, or wonder if I'm okay, or if I'm even alive, I want you to take care of the pup. It'll be like a good luck charm." He smiled, and even in the darkness she could tell that it was one sided and crooked. She nodded, her eyes still red.
"What. . .will I name it?" she hiccuped.
"Well. . . if it's a girl, name her. . . Jinx."
"Jinx?"
"Yes, because all girls are Jinx's." he teased, forcing a small giggle from her.
"And if it's a boy?"
"If it's a boy. . . Call him Link. Because that's what he'll be, a link between you and me." He smiled and ruffled her hair. She forced herself to smile, but let it drop off her face when Zarin's back was turned. He straightened his shoulders and began to walk, the rain shrouding his figure until there was nothing but pouring moisture. Mud squashed beneath her bare toes, her hair fell down her face in ringlets. She watched him grow smaller and smaller, until his smudge completely vanished. She didn't move from that spot for a long time. She ignored her father's call. Ignored her mother’s pleading voice.. She just stood there, wondering if she would ever see her brother come back.
But he wouldn’t. He would never come back.
“Kelly?” Derek called, the sound of his large boots hitting the mud reached her before he did. He placed a large hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, “I promise Kelly, it had to happen. I’m sorry.” For a moment, it appeared as though tears threatened Derek as well. Kelly felt her shoulders begin to shake. Felt the horror of what had happened break over her, crushing her.
“No you're not,” she whispered, jerking away from his grip, “You’re not sorry, you won’t ever be sorry, and I’ll never, ever forgive you!” She turned and ran, the mountain was only feet from her, and she scrambled up it like a mountain goat.
Derek watched his daughter flee. He didn’t go after her. Instead he stared down the road his son had taken. “I’m sorry Zarin,” he whispered, “but you’ll learn. Maybe the world can force you to learn.”
Kelly dug her fingers into the loosening dirt of the mountain, pulling herself up further and further. She would find the glarenine. She would find the little creatures of light and raise one of the pups. She would take care of it and if she took care of it then maybe the gods would take care of Zarin.
It didn’t take long to find the little cubby hole in the rock she had spotted the day earlier. She dug at it, ignoring the father glarenine coming out to protect its family. He wasn’t a real protector, he just did whatever he wanted. No matter what the consequences of it was. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that it hurt people or made her fingers bleed or her heart cry out in pain. That stupid little father glarenine had no idea what it was doing. Had no idea that her family. . . that her family. . .
Tears clogged her vision again, choking her. She pulled her hands away from the hole. The male glarenine bared its sharp teeth at her before scrambling back into its den. Glarenine’s were like little foxes with burning blood and glowing skin. They weren’t native to Earth. They had been shipped here a long time ago, and now were as common as rats. Kelly turned away. Curling into a ball at the top of the mountain.
There was no other sound beyond the pouring of the rain. The mud coated Kelly's arms and legs, soaking her through. The clouds churned, rumbling overhead, and lightning split the heavens like the hand of god. Kelly didn't move, barely seemed to breathe, as she looked down the mountainside to the little house that barely stood out against the night. She never wanted to go back there again. She didn't want to return to her parents, didn't want to see their faces. Not when he wasn't there anymore. Not now that her family was broken.
Because he was gone now. He was gone forever.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Nation part 3
Okay everyone, sorry it's late, but here's part 3. Also, remember that the purpose of this blog is so that I can get feedback on my writing! It's still a rough draft, so if you all could give me storyline feedback, character feedback, and voice feedback, that would be great. Enjoy the story!
Mindy had no idea what the man was saying. He, of course, was oblivious to the fact that both Mindy and Andrew were just nodding and smiling as he rambled. The words kind of sounded like giant flying insects of nonsense rambling out of this mouth. Mindy imagined trying to bottle the words, catch them in a jar because they sounded like butterflies.
So, she was officially losing it.
“Mom?” Andy leaned close to her, his dark eyes studying the man, “What's he saying?”
“I don't know.”
More mindless jumble came out of his mouth. Things that should have been English words but were too garbled to really be anything. But, he looked upset. The truck began to slow down. Mindy kind of felt like she was in a covered wagon from back in the pioneer days. The truck had that same fabricy type feel to it, and it was definitely rocky enough to be one. Pulling back some of the fabric by the rear, she looked outside. They were pulling over to the side of the road. A large hill extended above them, rippling like the ocean on ground. “What's that?” Andy whispered, peeking out himself.
“Probably rice fields,” Mindy said. She'd only ever seen pictures of them before, but that's what she thought they were. The truck continued to slow until it stopped right by the edge of one of the ripples. A straw cone popped up from behind one of the ripples, bobbing as it got closer. A little man in tight woven black clothing whistled as he approached the truck, a long stick slung over his shoulders with two baskets hanging off either side, like a scale. He smiled when he approached the truck, calling out in Chinese.
The bearded man Chuckled and answered, throwing back the curtain that protected the back of the truck. He hopped out and embraced the other, laughing and making sure the baskets didn't tip over. The two men exchanged rapid words in Chinese, giving all the more impression of having flapping flurries flying out of their mouths. The new man was obviously younger than their rescuer, and his eyes were black and glittered mischievously. “Ho!” he called, leaning around his companion, one arm slung casually over the stick as though it weighed nothing at all, “What're you doing hiding in there?”
“You speak English?” Mindy crawled out cautiously, holding a hand out to keep Andrew in the truck.
“So does Bai,” he replied, his accent barely affecting his speech at all, “He's very proud of it.” The bearded one, Bai, tried to say something in English, but Mindy felt a headache begin and stopped listening.
“Who are you?” She asked instead.
“I'm one of the few people on Earth that actually don't want the different Nations to kill each other. How about you?”
“I'm Miranda.”
“Nice to meet you.” The man tipped his straw hat, grinning. He swung the scale around, resting it on the ground and rubbing his shoulders. He'd been standing so straight, it'd looked like there'd barely been any weight on them at all, but the baskets were full of rice; thick soggy rice. His shoulders red and rubbed raw. Mindy hesitated, then stuck out her hand. He shook it graciously, smiling. “My name's Jian. This is my uncle Bai. He fancies himself an English speaker. What brings you to China?”
“I'm looking for my husband,” Mindy took a deep breath, she knew it wasn't always wise to just tell people what she was looking for, but it also took too much time sometimes to be elusive. “I have to find him.”
“And you know for sure that he's here?” Jian's face was friendly, but his tone made her straighten her back a little bit.
“He has to be,” she whispered.
The real search had begun in San Francisco. It hadn't taken too long to sell everything they had, people were grabbing at everything they could possibly hold, the family that bought their house looked like they hadn't been living under a roof in weeks. The money they paid for it was scrap, of course, but Mindy accepted it graciously. She could only hope that it would be enough.
Andrew hefted his backpack, looking up at his mother with tear stained cheeks, “Mommy, where are we going?” he hiccuped, trying to get a hold of himself. Mindy dropped to her knees next to him, grabbing the little body and pulling him close.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, he cried into her shoulder, his entire body shaking. He was still just a baby. Just a little baby. . .how could she do this? Her mother's words drifted into her mind again, accusing and angry. She shoved them away.
“We're going to find daddy, okay? We're going to find him and bring him home.”
“Where did they take him?”
“I don't. . . I don't know. I plan on finding out.”
“Okay.” He didn't ask the question that any adult would have. He didn't ask how she was going to find him, how she was going to figure out where he could have gone. He had total faith that she just would. Mindy took a deep breath, ruffling his hair.
“Let's go sweetie.”
“Are we ever going to come back?” he looked over his shoulder at the little house, grasping her hand with all his strength. Mindy couldn't help but feel how weak and little it was.
“I don't know.” Would they ever be able to come back? Wouldn't they just come and take Jason away again if they did? It didn't matter, they had to get him back first. She'd worry about the other bits later.
They'd made their way to San Francisco. Mindy was hoping that they'd be able to find transportation to where ever they needed to go from there. She knew that there was a government office holding there, a special place for someone sent specifically from D.C. to watch over larger cities. What she planned on doing with that government office building was still a mystery to her, which was beginning to be a problem. Everything was too sporadic, too unorganized. She needed to figure out exactly what she was doing or she would get herself and her son killed.
They walked through the streets, the skyscrapers soaring above them, people everywhere milling about as car horns honked and people clamored amongst themselves. Andrew stayed close, holding her hand. Mindy picked up a city map on a street vendor as they wandered, hoping to find a cheap hotel where they could stay for a few days while they figured this all out. She'd sold everything when they'd left home, the government tracked phone signals to their owners anyway, so her phone's gps and other apps would've been useless if she wanted to remain hidden. Besides, all the useful websites had been blocked anyway.
Mindy followed the map until they found a run down little motel. It was dirty, the “Vacancy” sign missing half it's letters. Business hadn't been booming for places that depended on travel for a while. Most of the smaller hotels had gone out of business years ago. Mindy couldn't help but wonder if this place had been full of people at one point. Squeezing Andy's hand for reassurance, they approached the building.
The lady at the front counter smiled when they walked in. She looked exhausted, large black circles around her eyes and wrinkles sagging down her cheeks. But her eyes were radiant and clear, moon shaped classes perched on her nose, “May I help you ma'am?” she asked cheerfully.
“We'd like a room, please,” Mindy said, trying to smile back.
“Of course, how many nights will you be staying with us?”
“I'm. . .” Mindy hesitated, sighing, “A week.” A week should give them
enough time.
“Alright, let's get that calculated up for you.” Mindy paid for the room and allowed herself to be escorted to the tiny one-bed room. It had a bathroom, but Mindy couldn't help but wonder if she should clean it herself before letting Andrew anywhere near it. The sink was dirty and the carpet was covered in sand, dirt and grass. The sheets were the only pristine looking ornament in the entire room, which was something of a comfort, and there was a little TV across from the bed. The women kindly asked if there was anything they needed, and Mindy told her no. She left, shutting the door with a sound click.
Andrew immediately fell on the bed, exhausted. He'd been sleeping in a car for the past few days, his poor little body couldn't take anymore. Mindy stroked his soft hair, listening to him breathe. He looked so much like Jason, blond hair, shining blue eyes if they'd been open. The perfect picture of what the standard “white” beauty would be. But that hadn't stopped them from taking Jason. Mindy couldn't help but wonder if they'd come for Andy next, claiming he was half alien. Would they take him and leave her all alone?
No, that's why she'd brought him with her. They'd never take anything from her again.
“Mommy?” Mindy jumped.
“Yes?”
“I love you. Don't leave, kay? Don't go away.”
“I won't sweetheart.”
“Promise forever,” he held out his hand, pinky up, Mindy linked her little finger through his. Her throat choked up, Jason used to play this game all the time. They'd started when the two of them had been dating, then Jason used it as a bargaining tool to make Andy do his schoolwork.
“I promise forever.” Mindy kissed his forehead, within seconds Andy had fallen back asleep.
Standing, Mindy pushed the baby under the blankets, tucking him in. A flick of the switch brought the room to darkness, making her fumble for her keys. Silently praying that Andy would sleep through the night, she slipped out the door.
San Francisco was still bright, even at night. Cars still wizzed down the streets, though they looked more brilliant, not as dusty and dull. The buildings were lit up too, brightening the black sky. Mindy pulled out her map, following the streets until she found a large white building, the American flag hanging limply from a tall pole. Most of the windows were dark by this time of night, but there was an emergency contact office open at all hours. Mindy approached cautiously, crossing and uncrossing her fingers.
She hadn't lost all hope in government. She knew that there were some really good things they were able to accomplish, and the reason everything was going down hill was because the world was going to hell. China had become the biggest rival for world power, it already dealt with most of the world's trade, almost having a monopoly on over sea businesses. They were leaving the US alone for now, most people assumed they had some sort of alliance going on that wasn't openly discussed. Europe was in an ever going explosion, some countries randomly coming together and attacking, while others had completely gone into isolation, refusing to have any contact with anyone. Everywhere seemed to be preparing for world wide war, but nobody openly talked about it. The “Alien removal” had just been another step in that direction, trying to prepare for a stupid war.
Mindy took a deep breath, then pushed her way into the office. A women sat there, typing rapidly on a computer. She approached cautiously, and for a moment the secretary didn't notice she was even there. When she did, she jumped slightly, then smiled broadly and gestured to a seat.
“Can I help you ma'am?”
“I. . .I have a question. About some of the new policies being implemented.”
“Well, we have all access to the policies right here, I'm sure I can answer any questions you have.”
“The. . .the American Boarders law, the one that removed all aliens from our boarders. . . “
“Yes?” she was still smiling. Mindy forced herself to sit straight. It was ridiculous that she was feeling so nervous, she was just asking questions, they were still allowed to ask questions.
“Where do they take them?”
“The official statement is that they are sent back to their home countries.”
“But. . .” back to their home countries? “I have. . . a few friends that were sent home. They would have contacted me if they'd just been sent home.”
“I cannot tell you why your friends haven't contacted you.” She shrugged, Mindy noticed she didn't suggest that Mindy try to contact them.
“Are you sure they are sent home? I saw some of them taken, and it wasn't in a kindly manner.”
“Don't be silly, ma'am. The United States government only has its people's best interests at heart.” But, according to them, Jason was no longer one of the United State's “people”. Mindy sat back in her chair, trying to think quickly. “Is there anything else I can help you with, ma'am?”
“Yes, the man they took was my husband. I have rights. I have a right to know where they took him, where he is now, and how to contact him.”
“I don't think that's possible, miss.” The warmth was beginning to leave the woman's tone. She looked away from Mindy, rummaging with the papers on her desk. Her hands trembled slightly, but she compensated by tapping her nails on the desk, “The location of immigrants. . .”
“He's not just an immigrant! He's my husband!You can't just break families like this!”
“People do it all the time.” the women stood up. “I think it's time for you to leave now, Miss.”
“It's Mrs.” Mindy stood up, “have they really sent the immigrants home?”
“Yes.” the women looked away.
“Ah, Ms. Renalds, you're here late this evening.” A man with slick, black hair stepped through the door. It was the first thing Mindy noticed, just how smoothly he'd brushed the hair back, giving it a glossy “new car” type of gleam. He wore a crisp business suit, carrying a briefcase in one hand. He smiled at Mindy, nodding politely. “Welcome to the government office, Ma'am, is there any way we can be of assistance?” Miranda wanted to scream at him. Had he heard what she'd said before?
“I. . .”
“Her husband was one of the immigrants that got relocated after the law was passed,” the woman said.
“Ah, truly unfortunate. Of course, you realize, Ma'am, that because of the relocation you are no longer legally married? All marriages to non-Citizens were annulled after the law was passed.”
“No,” Mindy shook her head.
“I'm afraid it's true. The law was quite specific. The threat to the nation and to our citizens could not be ignored. There are too many nations that require their citizens loyalty, and there are too many wars going on to make that a comfortable thought. Do you understand?” His tone was calming. As though he were talking reasonably.
“You're. . . You're not making any sense!”
“Am I not? Miss, I don't know you, but I do know the laws, this country, and its proud history. We need to unite as Americans, we need to make sure that our boarders are secure. This nation began under an isolationist theory, that of staying out of world affairs, and we've radically changed the position our founding fathers would have wanted. We're trying to protect the people of this country by putting a little more of that back into play.
“This is an immigration country,” Mindy chocked down her panic. She was terrified, something about the man's crisp appearance and his soft voice made her feel like a young disobedient child. But his words, his words were nonsense. How could anyone believe what he was saying? Everything that came out of his mouth sounded so. . . reasonable. But everything he was saying was absolute rubbish. “All of our ancestors are immigrants!”
“Not anymore. Miss, we must ask that you leave the premisses.”
Mindy stood up slowly, her hands shaking, and she tried to bite her tongue to keep herself from shouting, taking a deep breath, clearing her head, “You can't keep doing this to people,” she said, trying to mimic the man's tone, smooth, self assured, quiet. “Eventually they're going to figure out what rubbish this is, and they're going to put a stop to you.”
“What is your name?” he asked, slightly cocking his head to the side, reminding Mindy horribly of a rooster.
“It's Miranda,” the secretary said, “Miranda Moore, or. . . Ibori. Miranda Ibori. I just looked it up in the files.”
“Your husband will be returned safely to his homeland, Miranda,” He reached out to put his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, but she jerked back, she bit her tongue harder to keep back the tears, “You don't have to be concerned. We are just strengthening the nations borders.”
“You're a bastard,” she whispered. “A bloody bastard.”
“It says here that she has a young son, Andrew, about 6 years old this last May.”
“Where is your son Miranda?” the man leaned over the desk, looking at the files, “It looks like you're a long ways from home.”
“She sold her house 3 days ago, gave away everything she doesn't have on her.”
“How do you know all this?” Mindy whispered, “How could you possibly have that recent of records? That sale was between me and the new owner of that house.”
“Everything is our business, Miss Ibori.”
“She's traveled long distance, with a minor, and didn't purchase a permit or tell anyone where she was going. She's in violation of Code 683 of the Citizen Protection Act.”
Mindy realized a second too late what they were doing, she backed up, reaching for the handle of the door. It was locked.
“Miranda, please sit down. Where is your half-breed son?” Once again, that voice did not match the words.
Mindy turned around, pulling frantically at the door.
Why had she left Andy alone?
Mindy had no idea what the man was saying. He, of course, was oblivious to the fact that both Mindy and Andrew were just nodding and smiling as he rambled. The words kind of sounded like giant flying insects of nonsense rambling out of this mouth. Mindy imagined trying to bottle the words, catch them in a jar because they sounded like butterflies.
So, she was officially losing it.
“Mom?” Andy leaned close to her, his dark eyes studying the man, “What's he saying?”
“I don't know.”
More mindless jumble came out of his mouth. Things that should have been English words but were too garbled to really be anything. But, he looked upset. The truck began to slow down. Mindy kind of felt like she was in a covered wagon from back in the pioneer days. The truck had that same fabricy type feel to it, and it was definitely rocky enough to be one. Pulling back some of the fabric by the rear, she looked outside. They were pulling over to the side of the road. A large hill extended above them, rippling like the ocean on ground. “What's that?” Andy whispered, peeking out himself.
“Probably rice fields,” Mindy said. She'd only ever seen pictures of them before, but that's what she thought they were. The truck continued to slow until it stopped right by the edge of one of the ripples. A straw cone popped up from behind one of the ripples, bobbing as it got closer. A little man in tight woven black clothing whistled as he approached the truck, a long stick slung over his shoulders with two baskets hanging off either side, like a scale. He smiled when he approached the truck, calling out in Chinese.
The bearded man Chuckled and answered, throwing back the curtain that protected the back of the truck. He hopped out and embraced the other, laughing and making sure the baskets didn't tip over. The two men exchanged rapid words in Chinese, giving all the more impression of having flapping flurries flying out of their mouths. The new man was obviously younger than their rescuer, and his eyes were black and glittered mischievously. “Ho!” he called, leaning around his companion, one arm slung casually over the stick as though it weighed nothing at all, “What're you doing hiding in there?”
“You speak English?” Mindy crawled out cautiously, holding a hand out to keep Andrew in the truck.
“So does Bai,” he replied, his accent barely affecting his speech at all, “He's very proud of it.” The bearded one, Bai, tried to say something in English, but Mindy felt a headache begin and stopped listening.
“Who are you?” She asked instead.
“I'm one of the few people on Earth that actually don't want the different Nations to kill each other. How about you?”
“I'm Miranda.”
“Nice to meet you.” The man tipped his straw hat, grinning. He swung the scale around, resting it on the ground and rubbing his shoulders. He'd been standing so straight, it'd looked like there'd barely been any weight on them at all, but the baskets were full of rice; thick soggy rice. His shoulders red and rubbed raw. Mindy hesitated, then stuck out her hand. He shook it graciously, smiling. “My name's Jian. This is my uncle Bai. He fancies himself an English speaker. What brings you to China?”
“I'm looking for my husband,” Mindy took a deep breath, she knew it wasn't always wise to just tell people what she was looking for, but it also took too much time sometimes to be elusive. “I have to find him.”
“And you know for sure that he's here?” Jian's face was friendly, but his tone made her straighten her back a little bit.
“He has to be,” she whispered.
The real search had begun in San Francisco. It hadn't taken too long to sell everything they had, people were grabbing at everything they could possibly hold, the family that bought their house looked like they hadn't been living under a roof in weeks. The money they paid for it was scrap, of course, but Mindy accepted it graciously. She could only hope that it would be enough.
Andrew hefted his backpack, looking up at his mother with tear stained cheeks, “Mommy, where are we going?” he hiccuped, trying to get a hold of himself. Mindy dropped to her knees next to him, grabbing the little body and pulling him close.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, he cried into her shoulder, his entire body shaking. He was still just a baby. Just a little baby. . .how could she do this? Her mother's words drifted into her mind again, accusing and angry. She shoved them away.
“We're going to find daddy, okay? We're going to find him and bring him home.”
“Where did they take him?”
“I don't. . . I don't know. I plan on finding out.”
“Okay.” He didn't ask the question that any adult would have. He didn't ask how she was going to find him, how she was going to figure out where he could have gone. He had total faith that she just would. Mindy took a deep breath, ruffling his hair.
“Let's go sweetie.”
“Are we ever going to come back?” he looked over his shoulder at the little house, grasping her hand with all his strength. Mindy couldn't help but feel how weak and little it was.
“I don't know.” Would they ever be able to come back? Wouldn't they just come and take Jason away again if they did? It didn't matter, they had to get him back first. She'd worry about the other bits later.
They'd made their way to San Francisco. Mindy was hoping that they'd be able to find transportation to where ever they needed to go from there. She knew that there was a government office holding there, a special place for someone sent specifically from D.C. to watch over larger cities. What she planned on doing with that government office building was still a mystery to her, which was beginning to be a problem. Everything was too sporadic, too unorganized. She needed to figure out exactly what she was doing or she would get herself and her son killed.
They walked through the streets, the skyscrapers soaring above them, people everywhere milling about as car horns honked and people clamored amongst themselves. Andrew stayed close, holding her hand. Mindy picked up a city map on a street vendor as they wandered, hoping to find a cheap hotel where they could stay for a few days while they figured this all out. She'd sold everything when they'd left home, the government tracked phone signals to their owners anyway, so her phone's gps and other apps would've been useless if she wanted to remain hidden. Besides, all the useful websites had been blocked anyway.
Mindy followed the map until they found a run down little motel. It was dirty, the “Vacancy” sign missing half it's letters. Business hadn't been booming for places that depended on travel for a while. Most of the smaller hotels had gone out of business years ago. Mindy couldn't help but wonder if this place had been full of people at one point. Squeezing Andy's hand for reassurance, they approached the building.
The lady at the front counter smiled when they walked in. She looked exhausted, large black circles around her eyes and wrinkles sagging down her cheeks. But her eyes were radiant and clear, moon shaped classes perched on her nose, “May I help you ma'am?” she asked cheerfully.
“We'd like a room, please,” Mindy said, trying to smile back.
“Of course, how many nights will you be staying with us?”
“I'm. . .” Mindy hesitated, sighing, “A week.” A week should give them
enough time.
“Alright, let's get that calculated up for you.” Mindy paid for the room and allowed herself to be escorted to the tiny one-bed room. It had a bathroom, but Mindy couldn't help but wonder if she should clean it herself before letting Andrew anywhere near it. The sink was dirty and the carpet was covered in sand, dirt and grass. The sheets were the only pristine looking ornament in the entire room, which was something of a comfort, and there was a little TV across from the bed. The women kindly asked if there was anything they needed, and Mindy told her no. She left, shutting the door with a sound click.
Andrew immediately fell on the bed, exhausted. He'd been sleeping in a car for the past few days, his poor little body couldn't take anymore. Mindy stroked his soft hair, listening to him breathe. He looked so much like Jason, blond hair, shining blue eyes if they'd been open. The perfect picture of what the standard “white” beauty would be. But that hadn't stopped them from taking Jason. Mindy couldn't help but wonder if they'd come for Andy next, claiming he was half alien. Would they take him and leave her all alone?
No, that's why she'd brought him with her. They'd never take anything from her again.
“Mommy?” Mindy jumped.
“Yes?”
“I love you. Don't leave, kay? Don't go away.”
“I won't sweetheart.”
“Promise forever,” he held out his hand, pinky up, Mindy linked her little finger through his. Her throat choked up, Jason used to play this game all the time. They'd started when the two of them had been dating, then Jason used it as a bargaining tool to make Andy do his schoolwork.
“I promise forever.” Mindy kissed his forehead, within seconds Andy had fallen back asleep.
Standing, Mindy pushed the baby under the blankets, tucking him in. A flick of the switch brought the room to darkness, making her fumble for her keys. Silently praying that Andy would sleep through the night, she slipped out the door.
San Francisco was still bright, even at night. Cars still wizzed down the streets, though they looked more brilliant, not as dusty and dull. The buildings were lit up too, brightening the black sky. Mindy pulled out her map, following the streets until she found a large white building, the American flag hanging limply from a tall pole. Most of the windows were dark by this time of night, but there was an emergency contact office open at all hours. Mindy approached cautiously, crossing and uncrossing her fingers.
She hadn't lost all hope in government. She knew that there were some really good things they were able to accomplish, and the reason everything was going down hill was because the world was going to hell. China had become the biggest rival for world power, it already dealt with most of the world's trade, almost having a monopoly on over sea businesses. They were leaving the US alone for now, most people assumed they had some sort of alliance going on that wasn't openly discussed. Europe was in an ever going explosion, some countries randomly coming together and attacking, while others had completely gone into isolation, refusing to have any contact with anyone. Everywhere seemed to be preparing for world wide war, but nobody openly talked about it. The “Alien removal” had just been another step in that direction, trying to prepare for a stupid war.
Mindy took a deep breath, then pushed her way into the office. A women sat there, typing rapidly on a computer. She approached cautiously, and for a moment the secretary didn't notice she was even there. When she did, she jumped slightly, then smiled broadly and gestured to a seat.
“Can I help you ma'am?”
“I. . .I have a question. About some of the new policies being implemented.”
“Well, we have all access to the policies right here, I'm sure I can answer any questions you have.”
“The. . .the American Boarders law, the one that removed all aliens from our boarders. . . “
“Yes?” she was still smiling. Mindy forced herself to sit straight. It was ridiculous that she was feeling so nervous, she was just asking questions, they were still allowed to ask questions.
“Where do they take them?”
“The official statement is that they are sent back to their home countries.”
“But. . .” back to their home countries? “I have. . . a few friends that were sent home. They would have contacted me if they'd just been sent home.”
“I cannot tell you why your friends haven't contacted you.” She shrugged, Mindy noticed she didn't suggest that Mindy try to contact them.
“Are you sure they are sent home? I saw some of them taken, and it wasn't in a kindly manner.”
“Don't be silly, ma'am. The United States government only has its people's best interests at heart.” But, according to them, Jason was no longer one of the United State's “people”. Mindy sat back in her chair, trying to think quickly. “Is there anything else I can help you with, ma'am?”
“Yes, the man they took was my husband. I have rights. I have a right to know where they took him, where he is now, and how to contact him.”
“I don't think that's possible, miss.” The warmth was beginning to leave the woman's tone. She looked away from Mindy, rummaging with the papers on her desk. Her hands trembled slightly, but she compensated by tapping her nails on the desk, “The location of immigrants. . .”
“He's not just an immigrant! He's my husband!You can't just break families like this!”
“People do it all the time.” the women stood up. “I think it's time for you to leave now, Miss.”
“It's Mrs.” Mindy stood up, “have they really sent the immigrants home?”
“Yes.” the women looked away.
“Ah, Ms. Renalds, you're here late this evening.” A man with slick, black hair stepped through the door. It was the first thing Mindy noticed, just how smoothly he'd brushed the hair back, giving it a glossy “new car” type of gleam. He wore a crisp business suit, carrying a briefcase in one hand. He smiled at Mindy, nodding politely. “Welcome to the government office, Ma'am, is there any way we can be of assistance?” Miranda wanted to scream at him. Had he heard what she'd said before?
“I. . .”
“Her husband was one of the immigrants that got relocated after the law was passed,” the woman said.
“Ah, truly unfortunate. Of course, you realize, Ma'am, that because of the relocation you are no longer legally married? All marriages to non-Citizens were annulled after the law was passed.”
“No,” Mindy shook her head.
“I'm afraid it's true. The law was quite specific. The threat to the nation and to our citizens could not be ignored. There are too many nations that require their citizens loyalty, and there are too many wars going on to make that a comfortable thought. Do you understand?” His tone was calming. As though he were talking reasonably.
“You're. . . You're not making any sense!”
“Am I not? Miss, I don't know you, but I do know the laws, this country, and its proud history. We need to unite as Americans, we need to make sure that our boarders are secure. This nation began under an isolationist theory, that of staying out of world affairs, and we've radically changed the position our founding fathers would have wanted. We're trying to protect the people of this country by putting a little more of that back into play.
“This is an immigration country,” Mindy chocked down her panic. She was terrified, something about the man's crisp appearance and his soft voice made her feel like a young disobedient child. But his words, his words were nonsense. How could anyone believe what he was saying? Everything that came out of his mouth sounded so. . . reasonable. But everything he was saying was absolute rubbish. “All of our ancestors are immigrants!”
“Not anymore. Miss, we must ask that you leave the premisses.”
Mindy stood up slowly, her hands shaking, and she tried to bite her tongue to keep herself from shouting, taking a deep breath, clearing her head, “You can't keep doing this to people,” she said, trying to mimic the man's tone, smooth, self assured, quiet. “Eventually they're going to figure out what rubbish this is, and they're going to put a stop to you.”
“What is your name?” he asked, slightly cocking his head to the side, reminding Mindy horribly of a rooster.
“It's Miranda,” the secretary said, “Miranda Moore, or. . . Ibori. Miranda Ibori. I just looked it up in the files.”
“Your husband will be returned safely to his homeland, Miranda,” He reached out to put his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, but she jerked back, she bit her tongue harder to keep back the tears, “You don't have to be concerned. We are just strengthening the nations borders.”
“You're a bastard,” she whispered. “A bloody bastard.”
“It says here that she has a young son, Andrew, about 6 years old this last May.”
“Where is your son Miranda?” the man leaned over the desk, looking at the files, “It looks like you're a long ways from home.”
“She sold her house 3 days ago, gave away everything she doesn't have on her.”
“How do you know all this?” Mindy whispered, “How could you possibly have that recent of records? That sale was between me and the new owner of that house.”
“Everything is our business, Miss Ibori.”
“She's traveled long distance, with a minor, and didn't purchase a permit or tell anyone where she was going. She's in violation of Code 683 of the Citizen Protection Act.”
Mindy realized a second too late what they were doing, she backed up, reaching for the handle of the door. It was locked.
“Miranda, please sit down. Where is your half-breed son?” Once again, that voice did not match the words.
Mindy turned around, pulling frantically at the door.
Why had she left Andy alone?
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Sorry!
Hey! I'm so sorry, but this week has been crazy so the next part of "Nation" wont' be coming out this week. I'll try to make sure that it's finished by this upcoming Saturday! In the meantime, I'm going to post up the first bit or so of the story that will be posted up after "Nation" is finished. Kind of like a sneak peak. Thanks for your patience!
It was always kind of frightening, flying at high speeds through the air and never really knowing if we were going to crash into a wall or not. I pulled sharply on the reigns, trying to get my animal to turn, but it just buzzed angrily, kicking its legs and running along the empty air.
“Come on, Tara!” Zack shouted at me, keeping perfect control over HIS beast as though he'd ridden every day of his short life. Which wasn't actually a showing of how much skill he had, more of how much of a teacher's pet he was. He got the best pick of the bunch, and it showed. Which was irritating.
“Pull right!” the teacher's voice sounded in my ear, and I tugged incessantly at the reigns, but instead of turning left the way the creature was supposed to, it shot upwards. I screamed, dropping the reigns and just starting to bang incessantly on the outer exoskeleton. It snapped, swinging its head around to try and bite me, but I leaned back to avoid the mandibles.
“Why won't you just do what I say??” I shouted.
“TARA! The hardair!”
I spun around in panic, just as the wall hit me. The barrier looked just like any other patch of open air, but it was hard and slippery. The entire left side of my body crashed against it, making my head ring. The buzz from my animals wings sounded like a thousand sirens shouting “HERE I AM! HERE I AM! KILL ME!!” My saddle was slipping to the side, and I tried desperately to reorient it, but my head was still spinning from the impact.
“Ugh. . .”
“Tara! Get away from that part of the sky! You need to fly to safety!” HOW? I wanted to shout back. My stupid animal won't listen to a single signal I give it!! And now it was trying to break through the hard air and escape out onto the outside. Which could only be worse then the inside. Right?
I pulled on the reigns, trying to reassert control. After a few seconds of fighting it, the beast finally seceded to my reign and began to fly downwards. Which was partially what I wanted, so it worked for me. I landed on the cliff, jumping down from my seat immediately to feel the firm ground beneath my feet. Whoever decided flying these things was a good idea was obviously a moron.
Zack landed next to me, hoping off his carefully trained pet with precision and grace. I glared at him. “Tara, are you okay?” his face looked all concerned. It was almost sweet. In the obnoxiously angering type of way.
“I'm always okay,” I snapped, go away. I wanted to add, but didn't. Because every once in a while, some of my family's teachings stayed within me. Things like, don't make enemies of people who pretend to be your friend. Not outright anyway.
It was always kind of frightening, flying at high speeds through the air and never really knowing if we were going to crash into a wall or not. I pulled sharply on the reigns, trying to get my animal to turn, but it just buzzed angrily, kicking its legs and running along the empty air.
“Come on, Tara!” Zack shouted at me, keeping perfect control over HIS beast as though he'd ridden every day of his short life. Which wasn't actually a showing of how much skill he had, more of how much of a teacher's pet he was. He got the best pick of the bunch, and it showed. Which was irritating.
“Pull right!” the teacher's voice sounded in my ear, and I tugged incessantly at the reigns, but instead of turning left the way the creature was supposed to, it shot upwards. I screamed, dropping the reigns and just starting to bang incessantly on the outer exoskeleton. It snapped, swinging its head around to try and bite me, but I leaned back to avoid the mandibles.
“Why won't you just do what I say??” I shouted.
“TARA! The hardair!”
I spun around in panic, just as the wall hit me. The barrier looked just like any other patch of open air, but it was hard and slippery. The entire left side of my body crashed against it, making my head ring. The buzz from my animals wings sounded like a thousand sirens shouting “HERE I AM! HERE I AM! KILL ME!!” My saddle was slipping to the side, and I tried desperately to reorient it, but my head was still spinning from the impact.
“Ugh. . .”
“Tara! Get away from that part of the sky! You need to fly to safety!” HOW? I wanted to shout back. My stupid animal won't listen to a single signal I give it!! And now it was trying to break through the hard air and escape out onto the outside. Which could only be worse then the inside. Right?
I pulled on the reigns, trying to reassert control. After a few seconds of fighting it, the beast finally seceded to my reign and began to fly downwards. Which was partially what I wanted, so it worked for me. I landed on the cliff, jumping down from my seat immediately to feel the firm ground beneath my feet. Whoever decided flying these things was a good idea was obviously a moron.
Zack landed next to me, hoping off his carefully trained pet with precision and grace. I glared at him. “Tara, are you okay?” his face looked all concerned. It was almost sweet. In the obnoxiously angering type of way.
“I'm always okay,” I snapped, go away. I wanted to add, but didn't. Because every once in a while, some of my family's teachings stayed within me. Things like, don't make enemies of people who pretend to be your friend. Not outright anyway.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Nation part 2
“Mom? You're crushing my head.” Andy squirmed a little, trying to loosen Mindy's hold on him. She let go, taking a deep breath and looking away. The others in their compartment were still just sitting there, seemingly not doing anything at all. It had been months since they'd taken Jason, but the memory still left her feeling cold. Cold and lonely.
Mindy ruffled Andrew's hair, forcing herself to smile. “We're going to be there soon,” she said softly, “Can you wait to see it?”
“What will it be like? Covered in bamboo? Will there be pandas everywhere?”
Mindy laughed, “Maybe, I've never been.”
“I'm so excited,” his little eight year old face split into a grin, eyes shining, “We'll get dad back and then visit The Great Wall!” Mindy tried to keep her smile fixed.
“Yeah, we'll do that.”
“Promise?” His hair was so dirty, the previously blond hair was streaked with grease and dirt, his face grubby. His fingernails were cracked, some of them looking like they were getting ready to start bleeding. His clothing was torn and ripped, his blue eyes shining despite the thick film of misery that lurked just behind the gaze. He would stand out like a sore thumb among all the Asians. He'd taken after his father, looking more white than Mindy's dark complexion and short brown hair. She still wasn't sure how that had happened, weren't her genes supposed to be dominant?
“Yes,” she said, “I promise.” The ship heaved to the side, making Mindy's stomach flop upwards. Andy jumped up in case she lost whatever lunch she'd managed to force down. He put his hand on her head the way she'd done whenever he was sick.
“I don't think you're head is too warm,” he said, she smiled.
“Well, that's good to know,” she gulped down the bile.
“You won't leave me, will you?”
“Never.” she hugged him tight again, “I just can't wait till we get off this blasted ship.” Andrew nodded. “We should be there by nightfall.” she reassured him. He nodded again, closing his eyes and resting on her shoulder. His breathing was smooth and even.
“I'm going after him,” Mindy told her mother, the morning after they'd taken Jason. She'd stayed up all night, tossing and turning. She couldn't imagine what they would do to him, would they just send him home? Was he being held somewhere? It didn't matter. He was her husband. She was his family. She was going after him.
“Miranda, sweetheart.” Her mother twisted her shirt, biting her lip, “You realize what will happen don't you? They're not just going to let him go. They don't want foreigners in the country, and they say it'll make us safe. . .” she was twisting the hem of her shirt faster and faster. Mindy closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply and calmly, “I know,” she said, her fists clenched, “But. . . Mom. . .” she took in a deep breath, “HOW CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? How can you possibly think that Jason would do ANYTHING that would hurt this country? All he ever did was try to take care of his family, all he ever did was his own business. We're even cleared of all the debt! How can they just. . . How can they just. . .” her shoulders shook, the entire world was falling apart. Everything was just. . .wrong.
“Shh, shh Miranda.” Her mom pulled her into her arms, stroking her hair, “shh, don't cry, it's going to be okay, shh, shh.” It's not okay, it's not okay for as long as he's been gone.
“I'm. . .” Mindy gulped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, “I'm going after him.”
“Miranda, you can't. What will Andy do? You can't just leave him.” Andrew. Her little boy. This was the hard part. But what right did they have to take away her family? What right did anyone have to say that they shouldn't be together? Everything inside of her told her that what she was about to do was risky. Her first instinct was to protect her son. She couldn't just take him with her when she might be thrown in jail, or shot or. . .who knew what else. She should leave him somewhere safe. He should be free of all of this, grow up in a fantasy where people didn't just take their parents away from them. But he wasn't going to.
“Mom, we're going to war,” Mindy said, “The entire country is preparing for it. It'll be almost everyone else against just us. They're going to be taking people from everywhere, there's going to be invasions, the US isn't safe anymore.”
“Don't be silly. . .”
“You KNOW it's true. It's not just the American government that's going to pot, it's EVERYWHERE. The entire world is going insane. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that I can't live like this. I won't let this happen. If my family is going to die, we're going to die together. I'm taking Andy with me.”
* * *
The door to the ship compartment burst open. The captain stood there, his beard bristling as he smelled the stink from all the passengers. There weren't too many reasons to be trying to get into China these days, but they each had their reasons, and none of them were very willing to share. In the three weeks they'd been on the ship had stretched their endurance, almost everyone was sick from the conditions and the stink from those that had originally gotten sea sick. But now it was time to leave, just like they'd originally planned.
Captain Adrian Tai was known for his fair play. He was also known, if anyone had ever bothered to check, for piracy, smuggling, and double dealing. But he was probably the only pirate that dabbled in those activities governed by a highly sensitive moral conscience. He knew that people had their reasons for wanting to get into the different nations. He also knew that most of the time they had no way of doing so, and were desperate enough to pay the highest sum possible. He was essentially a good man, or liked to think of himself that way. He just didn't like playing by someone else's rules. After all, if you gotta go to jail for something (and these days, you really did) then it might as well be something you feel good about.
There were plenty of people willing to help you if you had the cash, and the desperate usually found a way to get the cash. Adrian thought of the mother and her little son. They were probably the saddest of all the refugees, definitely the youngest member was that little boy. He sometimes wondered if he did the right thing in accepting their money, or if he should have just told them both to go home. It was dangerous in these waters. It was dangerous to be anywhere you weren't supposed to be. But he'd recognized that look, if he hadn't helped them, they would've found someone who would.
Might as well be him getting paid.
Each piece of cargo was carefully labeled. All of the refugees would be sent ashore and given to a certain supplier. They would all, of course, be going different places. There was no point in trying to smuggle people in if they were all just going to get caught. They were given very specific instructions. Not all of those picking up their goods knew their were people hiding amongst them, and it was probably better that it stayed that way.
Adrian stood calmly, holding his hands behind his back and staring at the coastline. He'd be back, and some of these people might come back with him, but he was willing to bet that the majority of them wouldn't be coming back. A barrel was rolled past him, down the plank and carried onto the dock. The buildings extended far into the distance, the skyscrapers reaching for the sky and flashing their shiny lights against the sun. the loading docks seemed tiny in comparison. Adrian tipped his hat, turning around and retreating into his cabin for his records, it was going to be a very long day.
* * *
Mindy pulled her legs up to her chest, feeling her heart pounding against the rib cage. Her palms were sweating, her back was already beginning to ache, and it was all she could do to keep herself from making a sound as they rolled her barrel over and over again. Her already upset stomach flipped around, trying to keep itself form disintegrating in its own bile. Andy was supposed to be in the barrel next to her, going to the same dock, but she had no idea if that was true or not. She didn't even know 100% that the captain was trustworthy. What if she got out and Andy. . . No. No, there wasn't any point in panicking. Right?
Mindy closed her eyes, wishing everything would just. . Stop. Actually, she wished that Jason was there with her, and that they were sitting in their yellow house and everything was shiny and perfect. Unfortunately, life didn't always run that way.
The barrel jolted to a stop, tipping in it's side and finally sitting upright. Mindy's cheek smashed into the bottom of the barrel, her body's weight smashing onto her face. She wiggled a little, trying to be careful and not move the barrel. All the blood rushed to her head and she had to swallow her stomach juices again. If she ever lived through this, she would never set foot on the sea again.
She heard the rolling of another barrel, it sounded like it was being set up somewhere close to her. She could only hope that Andy was in that one. They weren't supposed to get out of the barrels until they were at their destination, and then sneak out at night. Hopefully that would take them to some of the inner cities, Debjit had explained that if Jason was still in China, he'd be in Anshan. Mindy had no idea where that was, but she had a name. She just needed to find the person, and he'd help her save her husband. That's what the Indian had told her anyway. It was hard, just relying on someone to tell her the truth, hoping that they were right. But she really had no other choice.
Distant yelling gave Mindy the opportunity to shift her position. Voices yelling in gibberish, calling out to each other while feet pounded against the dock. Somebody screamed, and Mindy could hear something heavy being dragged against the wooden floor.
“Please! No, Please! You don't understand!” It was an older woman's voice, “Let me go!” Mindy scrunched up her eyes, trying to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear this. She recognized that voice, it was one of the refugees. She'd just sat in a corner, minding her own business the whole time. Mindy didn't know why she had come to China, none of them had really wanted to talk about it. More shouting in Chinese, Mindy wished she could understand what they were saying. The sound of feet moving along the dock resumed, making Mindy hold her breath. She could guess that with the discovery of the older women, they'd start looking for any other stowaways.
They were told that under no circumstances were they to get out of the barrels. They were to stay inside and wait until they reached their destination or at the very least were loaded into the trucks. There was no way they'd survive if they did otherwise. But. . . Andy.
What if they found Andy?
The crack in the top of the barrel was designed so if she stuck her fingers in the little wedge, the top would pop off. She wasn't sure if it would pop off or if she could slowly life it up, but she needed to take the risk. She wiggled, bringing her body into an upright position. She tried to jostle that barrel as little as possible, but it definitely jiggled. Fitting her fingers into the indent, she lifted the top off easily. Peeking through the crack showed her people running back and forth, pushing over barrels and a few grabbing weapons and running toward the ship that was already setting sail. The captain was a smart man.
They were at the edge of the dock, right before the city. There were large buildings going out in all directions save the one leading back to the ocean. She could faintly see a road further back, with people walking back and forth. Would they be able to loose people in the crowd?
Yeah right, she was a black woman with a white child in a city of Asians. They'd stick out worse than a daisy amongst a bunch of roses. But she just needed to make sure that Andrew wasn't caught. Should they try to leave now, or just wait and see if they were caught? Was it worth the risk?
Peeking through the top, she could see the crate next to her, it was a good foot smaller than her barrel, but she couldn't tell if anyone was inside it. She whistled softly, the tune they used to whistle to call their dog before he died. An answering whistle, barely perceptible, came out of the crate. He was there, and following instructions exactly. Staying quiet, staying in the barrel. Mindy lowered the top, feeling better, but then peeked out again at the men going through the packages. What would they do if they got caught? They hadn't come all this way just to be sent back home, or thrown in prison. They hadn't come all this way for nothing.
The men were shouting in Chinese still, going through all of the different packages, pulling out the other passengers. Some of them started crying, trying to get away, others just silently accepted their fate. Mindy and Andy were at the edge of the dock, furthest away, should they run?
“Keep youl head down miy, 'le you wan' be caugh'.” The lid slammed down tight, forcing Mindy to tuck her head, “quie' quie', you be fine,” The barrel lifted, and before being thrown into a harder surface. A second later, a squeek from nearby told Mindy Andy had been thrown too.
“You okay?” She whispered.
“I think so. . . We're going to see the wall right?”
“Yes Andy,” Mindy gulped as the surface below her began to rumble. “We're gonna see the wall. Someone started shouting in Chinese. Mindy felt the engine rumble louder beneath her feet, and heard a man shout something that was probably profane.
“Any English?” someone yelled. The voice from before answered in Chinese. “Then let us check!” The voice didn't have an accent. Mindy rubbed dry lips with her tongue, fitting her fingers into the whole again, giving her a view. A barrel chested Chinese man was facing down another in a business suit. The man in the business suit had a clean shave and short black hair, whereas the other had long hair and a mustache. He was waving his hands around, gesturing to the ocean, the buildings, even his truck. When he was finished he put his hands stoutly on his hips. The business man was shaking his head and smiling, white teeth flashing against darker face. He held out his hand, rubbing the fingers together.
The other threw up his hands in the air, glaring at the other. Until, finally, he dug out of his pocket a few bills, throwing them at the man, who caught them and tipped an imaginary hat and walked away. The mustached man growled, turned on his heel and climbed back into the truck, pulling up the back and sitting next to Mindy's barrel.
“You keep dat 'id down, mi'y,” He said, pushing on the lid to cut off her view, “You get caut an' I ro'e 200 do'arr.”
Mindy ruffled Andrew's hair, forcing herself to smile. “We're going to be there soon,” she said softly, “Can you wait to see it?”
“What will it be like? Covered in bamboo? Will there be pandas everywhere?”
Mindy laughed, “Maybe, I've never been.”
“I'm so excited,” his little eight year old face split into a grin, eyes shining, “We'll get dad back and then visit The Great Wall!” Mindy tried to keep her smile fixed.
“Yeah, we'll do that.”
“Promise?” His hair was so dirty, the previously blond hair was streaked with grease and dirt, his face grubby. His fingernails were cracked, some of them looking like they were getting ready to start bleeding. His clothing was torn and ripped, his blue eyes shining despite the thick film of misery that lurked just behind the gaze. He would stand out like a sore thumb among all the Asians. He'd taken after his father, looking more white than Mindy's dark complexion and short brown hair. She still wasn't sure how that had happened, weren't her genes supposed to be dominant?
“Yes,” she said, “I promise.” The ship heaved to the side, making Mindy's stomach flop upwards. Andy jumped up in case she lost whatever lunch she'd managed to force down. He put his hand on her head the way she'd done whenever he was sick.
“I don't think you're head is too warm,” he said, she smiled.
“Well, that's good to know,” she gulped down the bile.
“You won't leave me, will you?”
“Never.” she hugged him tight again, “I just can't wait till we get off this blasted ship.” Andrew nodded. “We should be there by nightfall.” she reassured him. He nodded again, closing his eyes and resting on her shoulder. His breathing was smooth and even.
“I'm going after him,” Mindy told her mother, the morning after they'd taken Jason. She'd stayed up all night, tossing and turning. She couldn't imagine what they would do to him, would they just send him home? Was he being held somewhere? It didn't matter. He was her husband. She was his family. She was going after him.
“Miranda, sweetheart.” Her mother twisted her shirt, biting her lip, “You realize what will happen don't you? They're not just going to let him go. They don't want foreigners in the country, and they say it'll make us safe. . .” she was twisting the hem of her shirt faster and faster. Mindy closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply and calmly, “I know,” she said, her fists clenched, “But. . . Mom. . .” she took in a deep breath, “HOW CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? How can you possibly think that Jason would do ANYTHING that would hurt this country? All he ever did was try to take care of his family, all he ever did was his own business. We're even cleared of all the debt! How can they just. . . How can they just. . .” her shoulders shook, the entire world was falling apart. Everything was just. . .wrong.
“Shh, shh Miranda.” Her mom pulled her into her arms, stroking her hair, “shh, don't cry, it's going to be okay, shh, shh.” It's not okay, it's not okay for as long as he's been gone.
“I'm. . .” Mindy gulped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, “I'm going after him.”
“Miranda, you can't. What will Andy do? You can't just leave him.” Andrew. Her little boy. This was the hard part. But what right did they have to take away her family? What right did anyone have to say that they shouldn't be together? Everything inside of her told her that what she was about to do was risky. Her first instinct was to protect her son. She couldn't just take him with her when she might be thrown in jail, or shot or. . .who knew what else. She should leave him somewhere safe. He should be free of all of this, grow up in a fantasy where people didn't just take their parents away from them. But he wasn't going to.
“Mom, we're going to war,” Mindy said, “The entire country is preparing for it. It'll be almost everyone else against just us. They're going to be taking people from everywhere, there's going to be invasions, the US isn't safe anymore.”
“Don't be silly. . .”
“You KNOW it's true. It's not just the American government that's going to pot, it's EVERYWHERE. The entire world is going insane. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that I can't live like this. I won't let this happen. If my family is going to die, we're going to die together. I'm taking Andy with me.”
* * *
The door to the ship compartment burst open. The captain stood there, his beard bristling as he smelled the stink from all the passengers. There weren't too many reasons to be trying to get into China these days, but they each had their reasons, and none of them were very willing to share. In the three weeks they'd been on the ship had stretched their endurance, almost everyone was sick from the conditions and the stink from those that had originally gotten sea sick. But now it was time to leave, just like they'd originally planned.
Captain Adrian Tai was known for his fair play. He was also known, if anyone had ever bothered to check, for piracy, smuggling, and double dealing. But he was probably the only pirate that dabbled in those activities governed by a highly sensitive moral conscience. He knew that people had their reasons for wanting to get into the different nations. He also knew that most of the time they had no way of doing so, and were desperate enough to pay the highest sum possible. He was essentially a good man, or liked to think of himself that way. He just didn't like playing by someone else's rules. After all, if you gotta go to jail for something (and these days, you really did) then it might as well be something you feel good about.
There were plenty of people willing to help you if you had the cash, and the desperate usually found a way to get the cash. Adrian thought of the mother and her little son. They were probably the saddest of all the refugees, definitely the youngest member was that little boy. He sometimes wondered if he did the right thing in accepting their money, or if he should have just told them both to go home. It was dangerous in these waters. It was dangerous to be anywhere you weren't supposed to be. But he'd recognized that look, if he hadn't helped them, they would've found someone who would.
Might as well be him getting paid.
Each piece of cargo was carefully labeled. All of the refugees would be sent ashore and given to a certain supplier. They would all, of course, be going different places. There was no point in trying to smuggle people in if they were all just going to get caught. They were given very specific instructions. Not all of those picking up their goods knew their were people hiding amongst them, and it was probably better that it stayed that way.
Adrian stood calmly, holding his hands behind his back and staring at the coastline. He'd be back, and some of these people might come back with him, but he was willing to bet that the majority of them wouldn't be coming back. A barrel was rolled past him, down the plank and carried onto the dock. The buildings extended far into the distance, the skyscrapers reaching for the sky and flashing their shiny lights against the sun. the loading docks seemed tiny in comparison. Adrian tipped his hat, turning around and retreating into his cabin for his records, it was going to be a very long day.
* * *
Mindy pulled her legs up to her chest, feeling her heart pounding against the rib cage. Her palms were sweating, her back was already beginning to ache, and it was all she could do to keep herself from making a sound as they rolled her barrel over and over again. Her already upset stomach flipped around, trying to keep itself form disintegrating in its own bile. Andy was supposed to be in the barrel next to her, going to the same dock, but she had no idea if that was true or not. She didn't even know 100% that the captain was trustworthy. What if she got out and Andy. . . No. No, there wasn't any point in panicking. Right?
Mindy closed her eyes, wishing everything would just. . Stop. Actually, she wished that Jason was there with her, and that they were sitting in their yellow house and everything was shiny and perfect. Unfortunately, life didn't always run that way.
The barrel jolted to a stop, tipping in it's side and finally sitting upright. Mindy's cheek smashed into the bottom of the barrel, her body's weight smashing onto her face. She wiggled a little, trying to be careful and not move the barrel. All the blood rushed to her head and she had to swallow her stomach juices again. If she ever lived through this, she would never set foot on the sea again.
She heard the rolling of another barrel, it sounded like it was being set up somewhere close to her. She could only hope that Andy was in that one. They weren't supposed to get out of the barrels until they were at their destination, and then sneak out at night. Hopefully that would take them to some of the inner cities, Debjit had explained that if Jason was still in China, he'd be in Anshan. Mindy had no idea where that was, but she had a name. She just needed to find the person, and he'd help her save her husband. That's what the Indian had told her anyway. It was hard, just relying on someone to tell her the truth, hoping that they were right. But she really had no other choice.
Distant yelling gave Mindy the opportunity to shift her position. Voices yelling in gibberish, calling out to each other while feet pounded against the dock. Somebody screamed, and Mindy could hear something heavy being dragged against the wooden floor.
“Please! No, Please! You don't understand!” It was an older woman's voice, “Let me go!” Mindy scrunched up her eyes, trying to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear this. She recognized that voice, it was one of the refugees. She'd just sat in a corner, minding her own business the whole time. Mindy didn't know why she had come to China, none of them had really wanted to talk about it. More shouting in Chinese, Mindy wished she could understand what they were saying. The sound of feet moving along the dock resumed, making Mindy hold her breath. She could guess that with the discovery of the older women, they'd start looking for any other stowaways.
They were told that under no circumstances were they to get out of the barrels. They were to stay inside and wait until they reached their destination or at the very least were loaded into the trucks. There was no way they'd survive if they did otherwise. But. . . Andy.
What if they found Andy?
The crack in the top of the barrel was designed so if she stuck her fingers in the little wedge, the top would pop off. She wasn't sure if it would pop off or if she could slowly life it up, but she needed to take the risk. She wiggled, bringing her body into an upright position. She tried to jostle that barrel as little as possible, but it definitely jiggled. Fitting her fingers into the indent, she lifted the top off easily. Peeking through the crack showed her people running back and forth, pushing over barrels and a few grabbing weapons and running toward the ship that was already setting sail. The captain was a smart man.
They were at the edge of the dock, right before the city. There were large buildings going out in all directions save the one leading back to the ocean. She could faintly see a road further back, with people walking back and forth. Would they be able to loose people in the crowd?
Yeah right, she was a black woman with a white child in a city of Asians. They'd stick out worse than a daisy amongst a bunch of roses. But she just needed to make sure that Andrew wasn't caught. Should they try to leave now, or just wait and see if they were caught? Was it worth the risk?
Peeking through the top, she could see the crate next to her, it was a good foot smaller than her barrel, but she couldn't tell if anyone was inside it. She whistled softly, the tune they used to whistle to call their dog before he died. An answering whistle, barely perceptible, came out of the crate. He was there, and following instructions exactly. Staying quiet, staying in the barrel. Mindy lowered the top, feeling better, but then peeked out again at the men going through the packages. What would they do if they got caught? They hadn't come all this way just to be sent back home, or thrown in prison. They hadn't come all this way for nothing.
The men were shouting in Chinese still, going through all of the different packages, pulling out the other passengers. Some of them started crying, trying to get away, others just silently accepted their fate. Mindy and Andy were at the edge of the dock, furthest away, should they run?
“Keep youl head down miy, 'le you wan' be caugh'.” The lid slammed down tight, forcing Mindy to tuck her head, “quie' quie', you be fine,” The barrel lifted, and before being thrown into a harder surface. A second later, a squeek from nearby told Mindy Andy had been thrown too.
“You okay?” She whispered.
“I think so. . . We're going to see the wall right?”
“Yes Andy,” Mindy gulped as the surface below her began to rumble. “We're gonna see the wall. Someone started shouting in Chinese. Mindy felt the engine rumble louder beneath her feet, and heard a man shout something that was probably profane.
“Any English?” someone yelled. The voice from before answered in Chinese. “Then let us check!” The voice didn't have an accent. Mindy rubbed dry lips with her tongue, fitting her fingers into the whole again, giving her a view. A barrel chested Chinese man was facing down another in a business suit. The man in the business suit had a clean shave and short black hair, whereas the other had long hair and a mustache. He was waving his hands around, gesturing to the ocean, the buildings, even his truck. When he was finished he put his hands stoutly on his hips. The business man was shaking his head and smiling, white teeth flashing against darker face. He held out his hand, rubbing the fingers together.
The other threw up his hands in the air, glaring at the other. Until, finally, he dug out of his pocket a few bills, throwing them at the man, who caught them and tipped an imaginary hat and walked away. The mustached man growled, turned on his heel and climbed back into the truck, pulling up the back and sitting next to Mindy's barrel.
“You keep dat 'id down, mi'y,” He said, pushing on the lid to cut off her view, “You get caut an' I ro'e 200 do'arr.”
Monday, February 27, 2012
Nation: part 1
This is the first of a series, hope you like it!
The sound of water slapping the hull of the ship mingled with the rest of the crew's mutterings. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, the water changing from midnight black to a cool aquiline blue. Mindy rested her head against the railing, feeling her stomach heave with every turn of the waves. Andrew was doing just fine, looking out over the waters and laughing every time the spray touched his face. If he was a few years older, Mindy might have been afraid that he'd want to join the navy, or run away to join some sailing company. But for right now he was content to stay at his mother's side, no matter where she might take him.
“Girl,” a big man grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn around and look into his face. Most of it was covered with a large bushy beard, big lips sticking out underneath an even bigger nose. His skin was sun tanned from the sea, but the scars on his arms and hands gave away the secret of “ease” that could be had upon the waves. “How many times have I told you to stay away from the edge?” his voice was raspy, like those big lips hung onto every word he said before they were able to pull free.
“I can't,” Mindy gulped down the bile already reforming, “Unless you want me to vomit on the others.”
“I'd rather they be covered in vomit than chains,” he whispered, grabbing her arm and shoving her toward the cabin, “Get out of the light!”
“Aye aye captain!” Andrew saluted the man, before taking his mother's hand and leading her toward the inside of the ship. The captain shook his head, his eyes concerned as they followed the two. A mother and her six year old son. What were they doing at a time like this? Why couldn't people just stay where they belonged?
It was damp inside the vessel, even a cargo one like this, where the shipments should have been kept dry. Mindy kept her head down and clung to the walls so the heaving of the ship didn't send her sprawling. They had to make their way down a narrow hallway of stairs before they would reach the main holding, where 13 other people were mingling with each other. The stench was wretched, and Mindy almost threw up the remnants of whatever was in her stomach. Even Andrew wrinkled his nose in disgust. Many of the other passengers were sitting next to the wall, some holding their heads, others their stomachs, and some were just staring into space.
Mindy sat down next to the doorway, where occasionally a breeze of fresh air might wiggle its way down into their holding. “Mom,” Andy whispered, “Are we close to finding dad?”
“Hopefully soon,” Mindy whispered, stroking his hair, “Hopefully soon.” Andy closed his eyes and rested his blond head on her lap. Mindy knew that he wanted nothing more than for her to gather him in her arms, kiss his forehead and tell him that dad was coming home in fifteen minutes and that he should be patient. She couldn't do the last step, but she gathered him up and kissed him just the same, “Are you afraid?” she asked.
“No,” he shook his head, “I'm not afraid of anything anymore.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Not even the soldiers with their big guns?”
“They can't hit me, I'm too little and fast.”
“What about the politicians, who smile and say things that they don't mean, like we should understand and trust them, when we know they're just going to stab us in the back?”
“Mommy, they lie.” Andrew shook his head like that made them less terrifying,
“They can't hurt me when they lie. I always know that they're lying, no matter what they say.” He said the last part fiercely, closing his eyes and clenching one of his hands into a fist. Mindy knew what he was thinking of. The man with the greased back hair and practiced smile, teeth so white it was like they blinded you just by looking directly at them. “Your husband will be returned safely to his homeland, Miranda. You don't have to be concerned. We are just strengthening the nations borders.” or later, once she'd learned the truth, “Go home, Miranda. Your husband is no longer a threat to this nation.” As if he'd ever been a threat in the first place. He'd had permanent residency, he'd lived there for 8 years. The only thing he'd ever been guilty of was being a foreigner.
Mindy put her head down, resting it on Andy's. He smiled and held her tightly. “ They can't hurt me when they lie. I always know that they're lying, no matter what they say.” He was a smart, brave little boy.
The ship jolted, thrusting a few of the passengers into one another. Mindy gulped, feeling the bile rise again in the back of her throat. She did NOT like being at sea. She wanted to go home, the image of her yellow house, blue blinds and flower ridden garden made her sick. Everything had been empty when they'd left. Every inch, every shamble of the place that made it look like home had been sold. She could still remember the look on her mother's face, the horror of what her daughter was about to do. “How could you? What right do you have to do that to your son??” but she'd had her reasons.
Mindy squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Andy rubbed her arm, humming softly to himself. He was getting too old, too old to be her little boy. “Mommy,” he whispered, “What do you think they really did to daddy?” Mindy shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to tell him what she thought they might have done.
It had been sometime in October. A Saturday, the TV making ridiculous noises as Andrew sat and took in every word and image. The house lit with that bright yellow sunshine that only happens on particularly clear days. Mindy couldn't help the smile, even as she tried to push the memory away and held Andrew more tightly. It'd been beautiful that day, she'd been moving through the kitchen, grabbing the papers lying about on the counters. A few newspapers crumpled into little balls and thrown into a corner, most of the others were bank notices or other bills. They'd finally all been paid off. All of them. Mindy hummed softly to herself as she sent them through the shredder, leaving nothing but long, white paper lines to fall into the trash bin.
“Hey, shredder-butt,” Jason kissed her on the cheek as he passed, “Enjoying your morning?”
“Why yes,” Mindy grinned, sending another bill through the machine, it was oddly satisfying. “Some people never live to see this moment.”
“Yeah,” Jason sighed, turning away, “I know.” Mindy paused, then continued shredding. She shouldn't have said anything. Jason was acutely aware of everything everyone was going through. She bumped into him, jabbing her shoulder into his upper back.
“No sad faces!” she kissed him, then skipped away.
“Oh, fine then,” he laughed, walking after her. The living room was messy, toys strewn around and the cushions lying in haphazard positions from where Andrew had arranged them as a sort of tent. He huddled inside them, waving his remote as the cartoon characters ran around screaming.
“They'll get you!” He yelled, his tiny little body getting into every action. It was in the middle of a battle scene, and he was actually quivering from excitement.
“Don't burst a muscle,” His father teased, peeking under the barricade, “How would you fight off the bad guys then?”
“My brain.” Andrew smiled, “It's strong.”
“Not if you keep watching these shows,” Mindy groaned, “They'll melt your brain into putty.”
“Noooo! They're brain builders! I know how to battle the king of snakes now!”
“Sure you do,” Jason laughed. A knocking sounded at the door. Andrew hid his face into on of the pillows, making a satisfying smacking noise. Jason threw back his head and laughed again, “Does this mean you don't want to answer the door, Andy?”
“The shooow. . .”
“I'll get it,” Mindy headed down the hallway, family pictures smiled from a burgundy table by the door. She looked through the peep hole, but could only really see a uniform. Something cold settled into her belly, and the breath in her lungs seemed to freeze. Why would someone in a uniform be here? They'd just finished paying all their debts. There was no reason for anyone in the government to be here. She opened the door, aware of the slight squeal of the hinge. “Yes?” she tried to smile at the man standing there, but felt like the muscles in her mouth only slightly twitched.
He was an older gentleman, his hair slightly gray on the sides and wrinkles around his eyes and jawline. He was well built, his shoulders way broader than Jason's, who would be as comparable as a tree limb to a barrel. He had brown hair, but it barely showed under the green uniform cap that he wore. His uniform was decorated with metals, and a small pistol hung at his belt.
“Mrs. Moore? Is your husband home?” He spoke with a clipped, brisk, professional tone. His voice a low baritone. Mindy hesitated.
“Y-yes he is. May I ask why you're here?”
“No, Ma'am. Our business is with your husband.” He stepped forward, gently, but firmly, pushing her out of the way. She stepped back into the house, feeling her body begin to shake a little. A few years ago she might have protested his entering her home without permission, but this was not a few years ago. This was now.
Jason came around the corner, looking surprised when he saw the officer there, “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Moore?”
“Yes?”
“You are in violation of The United States Purification act. As a Non-Citizen of this country I must require that you come with me until further notice.”
“What?” Mindy said, rushing to her husband she grabbed his arm, “What do you mean? He's a permanent resident, we have the papers if you want to check them over. . .”
“The rules have changed. Mr. Moore, please come with me.”
“You can't be serious?” Jason looked from the officer to Mindy and back again, “This is a clear violation of my rights! I . . .” The front door opened, two more officers stood there, each with a rifle. Mindy took a deep breath, feeling the blood drain out of her face.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Sir,” the first officer repeated, “You are coming with us. Please do not struggle. Anything you do can, and will, be held against you.”
“This is insane,” Jason said. Two steps forward brought the man within reach of Jason, he backhanded him across the face, sending the small man staggering backwards.
“You will not be so disrespectful of an American Government official. Please come with me.”
“No! He will not be coming with you!” Mindy stepped forward and the officer slapped her, she spun smashing into the table and sending the family pictures crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere, digging into the palms of her hands.
Jason lunged for her, crying out but the officer grabbed him, spun him around and slammed him against the hallway wall. One of the other men pulled out handcuffs and snapped them onto Jason's wrists.
“You can't do this!” Mindy said, pulling herself back onto her feet. She wanted to lunge at him, kicking and screaming, but before she got a chance one of the other men shoved her to the side making room for the officer and her bound husband to be lead through. Jason struggled but the officer just slammed his head against the wall. “What are you doing!” Mindy yelled.
“Teaching the alien some respect.” The officer said. He turned his head to her, smiling slightly, “You might want to think about the people you want to be associated with, Miss Ibori. This is a time of great distress within our country. You'll want to be careful.” He shoved Jason out the door, blood slightly seeping from beneath his hairline, and slammed the door behind him.
Mindy stared after them, feeling her head spin.
“Mommy?” Andy whispered, he was peeking from around the corner of the play room, his eyes wide, “Mommy, where are they taking daddy?”
The sound of water slapping the hull of the ship mingled with the rest of the crew's mutterings. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, the water changing from midnight black to a cool aquiline blue. Mindy rested her head against the railing, feeling her stomach heave with every turn of the waves. Andrew was doing just fine, looking out over the waters and laughing every time the spray touched his face. If he was a few years older, Mindy might have been afraid that he'd want to join the navy, or run away to join some sailing company. But for right now he was content to stay at his mother's side, no matter where she might take him.
“Girl,” a big man grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn around and look into his face. Most of it was covered with a large bushy beard, big lips sticking out underneath an even bigger nose. His skin was sun tanned from the sea, but the scars on his arms and hands gave away the secret of “ease” that could be had upon the waves. “How many times have I told you to stay away from the edge?” his voice was raspy, like those big lips hung onto every word he said before they were able to pull free.
“I can't,” Mindy gulped down the bile already reforming, “Unless you want me to vomit on the others.”
“I'd rather they be covered in vomit than chains,” he whispered, grabbing her arm and shoving her toward the cabin, “Get out of the light!”
“Aye aye captain!” Andrew saluted the man, before taking his mother's hand and leading her toward the inside of the ship. The captain shook his head, his eyes concerned as they followed the two. A mother and her six year old son. What were they doing at a time like this? Why couldn't people just stay where they belonged?
It was damp inside the vessel, even a cargo one like this, where the shipments should have been kept dry. Mindy kept her head down and clung to the walls so the heaving of the ship didn't send her sprawling. They had to make their way down a narrow hallway of stairs before they would reach the main holding, where 13 other people were mingling with each other. The stench was wretched, and Mindy almost threw up the remnants of whatever was in her stomach. Even Andrew wrinkled his nose in disgust. Many of the other passengers were sitting next to the wall, some holding their heads, others their stomachs, and some were just staring into space.
Mindy sat down next to the doorway, where occasionally a breeze of fresh air might wiggle its way down into their holding. “Mom,” Andy whispered, “Are we close to finding dad?”
“Hopefully soon,” Mindy whispered, stroking his hair, “Hopefully soon.” Andy closed his eyes and rested his blond head on her lap. Mindy knew that he wanted nothing more than for her to gather him in her arms, kiss his forehead and tell him that dad was coming home in fifteen minutes and that he should be patient. She couldn't do the last step, but she gathered him up and kissed him just the same, “Are you afraid?” she asked.
“No,” he shook his head, “I'm not afraid of anything anymore.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Not even the soldiers with their big guns?”
“They can't hit me, I'm too little and fast.”
“What about the politicians, who smile and say things that they don't mean, like we should understand and trust them, when we know they're just going to stab us in the back?”
“Mommy, they lie.” Andrew shook his head like that made them less terrifying,
“They can't hurt me when they lie. I always know that they're lying, no matter what they say.” He said the last part fiercely, closing his eyes and clenching one of his hands into a fist. Mindy knew what he was thinking of. The man with the greased back hair and practiced smile, teeth so white it was like they blinded you just by looking directly at them. “Your husband will be returned safely to his homeland, Miranda. You don't have to be concerned. We are just strengthening the nations borders.” or later, once she'd learned the truth, “Go home, Miranda. Your husband is no longer a threat to this nation.” As if he'd ever been a threat in the first place. He'd had permanent residency, he'd lived there for 8 years. The only thing he'd ever been guilty of was being a foreigner.
Mindy put her head down, resting it on Andy's. He smiled and held her tightly. “ They can't hurt me when they lie. I always know that they're lying, no matter what they say.” He was a smart, brave little boy.
The ship jolted, thrusting a few of the passengers into one another. Mindy gulped, feeling the bile rise again in the back of her throat. She did NOT like being at sea. She wanted to go home, the image of her yellow house, blue blinds and flower ridden garden made her sick. Everything had been empty when they'd left. Every inch, every shamble of the place that made it look like home had been sold. She could still remember the look on her mother's face, the horror of what her daughter was about to do. “How could you? What right do you have to do that to your son??” but she'd had her reasons.
Mindy squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Andy rubbed her arm, humming softly to himself. He was getting too old, too old to be her little boy. “Mommy,” he whispered, “What do you think they really did to daddy?” Mindy shook her head. She didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to tell him what she thought they might have done.
It had been sometime in October. A Saturday, the TV making ridiculous noises as Andrew sat and took in every word and image. The house lit with that bright yellow sunshine that only happens on particularly clear days. Mindy couldn't help the smile, even as she tried to push the memory away and held Andrew more tightly. It'd been beautiful that day, she'd been moving through the kitchen, grabbing the papers lying about on the counters. A few newspapers crumpled into little balls and thrown into a corner, most of the others were bank notices or other bills. They'd finally all been paid off. All of them. Mindy hummed softly to herself as she sent them through the shredder, leaving nothing but long, white paper lines to fall into the trash bin.
“Hey, shredder-butt,” Jason kissed her on the cheek as he passed, “Enjoying your morning?”
“Why yes,” Mindy grinned, sending another bill through the machine, it was oddly satisfying. “Some people never live to see this moment.”
“Yeah,” Jason sighed, turning away, “I know.” Mindy paused, then continued shredding. She shouldn't have said anything. Jason was acutely aware of everything everyone was going through. She bumped into him, jabbing her shoulder into his upper back.
“No sad faces!” she kissed him, then skipped away.
“Oh, fine then,” he laughed, walking after her. The living room was messy, toys strewn around and the cushions lying in haphazard positions from where Andrew had arranged them as a sort of tent. He huddled inside them, waving his remote as the cartoon characters ran around screaming.
“They'll get you!” He yelled, his tiny little body getting into every action. It was in the middle of a battle scene, and he was actually quivering from excitement.
“Don't burst a muscle,” His father teased, peeking under the barricade, “How would you fight off the bad guys then?”
“My brain.” Andrew smiled, “It's strong.”
“Not if you keep watching these shows,” Mindy groaned, “They'll melt your brain into putty.”
“Noooo! They're brain builders! I know how to battle the king of snakes now!”
“Sure you do,” Jason laughed. A knocking sounded at the door. Andrew hid his face into on of the pillows, making a satisfying smacking noise. Jason threw back his head and laughed again, “Does this mean you don't want to answer the door, Andy?”
“The shooow. . .”
“I'll get it,” Mindy headed down the hallway, family pictures smiled from a burgundy table by the door. She looked through the peep hole, but could only really see a uniform. Something cold settled into her belly, and the breath in her lungs seemed to freeze. Why would someone in a uniform be here? They'd just finished paying all their debts. There was no reason for anyone in the government to be here. She opened the door, aware of the slight squeal of the hinge. “Yes?” she tried to smile at the man standing there, but felt like the muscles in her mouth only slightly twitched.
He was an older gentleman, his hair slightly gray on the sides and wrinkles around his eyes and jawline. He was well built, his shoulders way broader than Jason's, who would be as comparable as a tree limb to a barrel. He had brown hair, but it barely showed under the green uniform cap that he wore. His uniform was decorated with metals, and a small pistol hung at his belt.
“Mrs. Moore? Is your husband home?” He spoke with a clipped, brisk, professional tone. His voice a low baritone. Mindy hesitated.
“Y-yes he is. May I ask why you're here?”
“No, Ma'am. Our business is with your husband.” He stepped forward, gently, but firmly, pushing her out of the way. She stepped back into the house, feeling her body begin to shake a little. A few years ago she might have protested his entering her home without permission, but this was not a few years ago. This was now.
Jason came around the corner, looking surprised when he saw the officer there, “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Moore?”
“Yes?”
“You are in violation of The United States Purification act. As a Non-Citizen of this country I must require that you come with me until further notice.”
“What?” Mindy said, rushing to her husband she grabbed his arm, “What do you mean? He's a permanent resident, we have the papers if you want to check them over. . .”
“The rules have changed. Mr. Moore, please come with me.”
“You can't be serious?” Jason looked from the officer to Mindy and back again, “This is a clear violation of my rights! I . . .” The front door opened, two more officers stood there, each with a rifle. Mindy took a deep breath, feeling the blood drain out of her face.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Sir,” the first officer repeated, “You are coming with us. Please do not struggle. Anything you do can, and will, be held against you.”
“This is insane,” Jason said. Two steps forward brought the man within reach of Jason, he backhanded him across the face, sending the small man staggering backwards.
“You will not be so disrespectful of an American Government official. Please come with me.”
“No! He will not be coming with you!” Mindy stepped forward and the officer slapped her, she spun smashing into the table and sending the family pictures crashing to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere, digging into the palms of her hands.
Jason lunged for her, crying out but the officer grabbed him, spun him around and slammed him against the hallway wall. One of the other men pulled out handcuffs and snapped them onto Jason's wrists.
“You can't do this!” Mindy said, pulling herself back onto her feet. She wanted to lunge at him, kicking and screaming, but before she got a chance one of the other men shoved her to the side making room for the officer and her bound husband to be lead through. Jason struggled but the officer just slammed his head against the wall. “What are you doing!” Mindy yelled.
“Teaching the alien some respect.” The officer said. He turned his head to her, smiling slightly, “You might want to think about the people you want to be associated with, Miss Ibori. This is a time of great distress within our country. You'll want to be careful.” He shoved Jason out the door, blood slightly seeping from beneath his hairline, and slammed the door behind him.
Mindy stared after them, feeling her head spin.
“Mommy?” Andy whispered, he was peeking from around the corner of the play room, his eyes wide, “Mommy, where are they taking daddy?”
Friday, February 24, 2012
Time
No time to spare,
When the clock bells chime
No moment for those here around us.
No listening word,
When the kids all scatter,
There simply are too many,
Will there be a sight,
To pause the masses?
Will there be an idea so beloved?
When our lives are measured.
By what we attain,
Instead of by what we imagine.
Work comes in all forms,
But will minds be open,
To ideas and thoughts to be fed?
To reach for the sky,
Then be stopped by a wall,
Caused by far greater men to stumble.
But by stumbling, we fall,
By falling, we crawl,
And slowly move onward again.
Then our eyes will be clear,
Our sight will be given,
We'll know when to stop and to listen.
To see more than lines,
To see more than fences,
But discover and be more than living.
When the clock bells chime
No moment for those here around us.
No listening word,
When the kids all scatter,
There simply are too many,
Will there be a sight,
To pause the masses?
Will there be an idea so beloved?
When our lives are measured.
By what we attain,
Instead of by what we imagine.
Work comes in all forms,
But will minds be open,
To ideas and thoughts to be fed?
To reach for the sky,
Then be stopped by a wall,
Caused by far greater men to stumble.
But by stumbling, we fall,
By falling, we crawl,
And slowly move onward again.
Then our eyes will be clear,
Our sight will be given,
We'll know when to stop and to listen.
To see more than lines,
To see more than fences,
But discover and be more than living.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
English
Literature has enabled mankind to remember a lot of different things. We look back through the past and view history through the eyes of people that wrote down the stories. The fictional ones, the real ones, the ones that commented on society and the growing norms, it doesn't matter. For hundreds of years we based the intelligence and growth of a civilization off of their literature, what they decided was important enough to be written down. The bible has survived 2000 years of civilization change, people change, ideology change, but still it remains, still it is a marker of something that is important to millions of people. Literature is what we used to think was the most important mark of an intellectual, the writer is who came to define history.
And yet, look at the English Major now.
I find it fascinating that what was once the most studied, the most important, and the most intellectual of all the subjects is now looked down upon. When I tell people that I'm an English Major, a lot of them smile little smiles of "oh, I see. You're just here to get married." Or, "Where are you going to go with that? Home with the children?" It frustrates me that so many people think I'm only learning about English because it's "easy" and I'm just going to college so I can say I have a degree but then never use it. It's so strange, because the history of English, the history of literature, is so rich and full of ideas. Ideas drive mankind, it's what leads us and pushes us to progress. Even now, when people look back at this time we'll see all of the technology advances, we'll see all of the change that has occurred, but how will we study it? How will we look at it? Through the literature that is being produced. Through what is being written down now!
I'm writing this for a variety of reasons. One of them is because I was having a little bit of an identity crisis for the past few months. I haven't updated this blog in so long because part of me had given up on the idea of ever becoming a writer, or ever doing something that would really effect the world. But, I recently came to the realization that giving up on any dream is foolish. Even if I don't do anything else, I can still be a writer, and I can still get my words out there.
A few weeks ago, I was trying to decide whether or not I wanted to remain an English major or change that major to something else. I was contemplating English Teaching, even though that had never been something particularly appealing to me. I was hoping that by teaching English perhaps I could feel like I was doing something useful with my major, actually developing a skill that I'd be able to market. But something continually held me back. Every time I felt like I had made the decision, that I wanted to be a teacher, I would start to voice that desire and immediately begin to doubt myself. It was an uncomfortable teeter-totter ride. I began to get exceedingly frustrated, and started talking to close friends about it. One of them told me I was looking at it the wrong way, and that I needed to stop thinking, “What can I market?” and start thinking, “What do I want to do?”
I took his advice to heart, sitting down with myself and really trying to think about what I wanted to do. What brought me joy, what was something I would love to do for the rest of my life? The answer came quietly, barely a whisper above all the other raging, arguing voices in my head. It was the voice I'd shut down as impossible, as being too irresponsible to actually pursue. It sounded astonishingly like a junior high/high school version of myself. It whispered, “I just want to write. . . I want to tell stories.”
I was shocked. I just sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. How could I have forgotten? How could I have let myself degrade so far that I had actually allowed my main goal since I was 12 years old fall into disrepair? I hadn't written a story in months, my ideas were fleeting and never seemed to last more than a paragraph at best. I hadn't invested any time into creativity, because I was “just too busy.” I'd failed myself.
But I'm not going to let that happen anymore. This story blog has been neglected for months, almost an entire year since the last post. I don't want that to happen again. I have to make time for storytelling.
So, the English major has been frowned upon by a lot of modern society, thinking that it is frivolous, foolish, and that it can't take you anywhere. But history tells us that it is the literature, the writers, that decide the future of the world. So let's see what we can do, shall we? Let's see what kind of history I, personally, can create.
And yet, look at the English Major now.
I find it fascinating that what was once the most studied, the most important, and the most intellectual of all the subjects is now looked down upon. When I tell people that I'm an English Major, a lot of them smile little smiles of "oh, I see. You're just here to get married." Or, "Where are you going to go with that? Home with the children?" It frustrates me that so many people think I'm only learning about English because it's "easy" and I'm just going to college so I can say I have a degree but then never use it. It's so strange, because the history of English, the history of literature, is so rich and full of ideas. Ideas drive mankind, it's what leads us and pushes us to progress. Even now, when people look back at this time we'll see all of the technology advances, we'll see all of the change that has occurred, but how will we study it? How will we look at it? Through the literature that is being produced. Through what is being written down now!
I'm writing this for a variety of reasons. One of them is because I was having a little bit of an identity crisis for the past few months. I haven't updated this blog in so long because part of me had given up on the idea of ever becoming a writer, or ever doing something that would really effect the world. But, I recently came to the realization that giving up on any dream is foolish. Even if I don't do anything else, I can still be a writer, and I can still get my words out there.
A few weeks ago, I was trying to decide whether or not I wanted to remain an English major or change that major to something else. I was contemplating English Teaching, even though that had never been something particularly appealing to me. I was hoping that by teaching English perhaps I could feel like I was doing something useful with my major, actually developing a skill that I'd be able to market. But something continually held me back. Every time I felt like I had made the decision, that I wanted to be a teacher, I would start to voice that desire and immediately begin to doubt myself. It was an uncomfortable teeter-totter ride. I began to get exceedingly frustrated, and started talking to close friends about it. One of them told me I was looking at it the wrong way, and that I needed to stop thinking, “What can I market?” and start thinking, “What do I want to do?”
I took his advice to heart, sitting down with myself and really trying to think about what I wanted to do. What brought me joy, what was something I would love to do for the rest of my life? The answer came quietly, barely a whisper above all the other raging, arguing voices in my head. It was the voice I'd shut down as impossible, as being too irresponsible to actually pursue. It sounded astonishingly like a junior high/high school version of myself. It whispered, “I just want to write. . . I want to tell stories.”
I was shocked. I just sat there for a moment, dumbfounded. How could I have forgotten? How could I have let myself degrade so far that I had actually allowed my main goal since I was 12 years old fall into disrepair? I hadn't written a story in months, my ideas were fleeting and never seemed to last more than a paragraph at best. I hadn't invested any time into creativity, because I was “just too busy.” I'd failed myself.
But I'm not going to let that happen anymore. This story blog has been neglected for months, almost an entire year since the last post. I don't want that to happen again. I have to make time for storytelling.
So, the English major has been frowned upon by a lot of modern society, thinking that it is frivolous, foolish, and that it can't take you anywhere. But history tells us that it is the literature, the writers, that decide the future of the world. So let's see what we can do, shall we? Let's see what kind of history I, personally, can create.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Growing Up
This is the beginning of a new story idea. I might post more chapters here, but it all depends on the feed back I get. If you guys want more, please tell me. Thanks! (oh, and this is a rough draft, so I'm sure there are issues, my apologies)
The neighborhood wasn't extravagant. It followed a little side road, bending into a coldasac. The sidewalks were cracked and worn looking. It wasn't like the place had been there for a long time. It just seemed well used. Children still ran around and played in the trees. Some kids were riding their bikes on the road, trying to make sharp turns and race each other back to their driveways.
Kieran kept his head down, looking only at the sidewalk slabs as he moved his feet slowly forward. Why was he doing this? It was just like stabbing himself repeatedly through the heart. He could feel the organ pulsing in his chest, but he didn't really want to think about it. He just knew that he needed to come back. He needed to look at this place. The home where he grew up, where everything began. Lifting his head a little, he watched the children playing. Their bikes were of a different style, they wore different clothing, but everything else was essentially the same. They'd even made a make-shift jump from old wooden planks no doubt taken from their father's tool sheds. Kieran couldn't help the small smile from forming as he watched them.
And there, over by the red bricked house was the apple tree he and Cali had climbed. She'd slipped and broken her arm. Kieran almost laughed aloud at the memory, though he'd been panicking at the time. He'd thought she was going to die, and while he'd been panicking, Cali had been screaming her head off. They'd only been around six or seven.
Kieran walked up to the tree, putting his hand on the rough bark. It was a lot bigger than it used to be. He could probably even climb it now and have it hold his weight. Part of him was tempted to do just that. Throw down his pack and scramble up into the branches just like when he was a child. He wondered if the view was the same. If the two branches that perfectly provided cover so they could peek out and spy on the neighborhood were still in the right spot. He wondered if the apples tasted as sweet. Probably. Why would the taste of apples change? But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if they had. Couldn't help but wonder if even something as small as the crunch of an apple could escape the change.
The gravel crunched under his feet as he headed toward his house. His old house, more appropriately. It still had a green door. Kieran was kind of surprised the new owners had kept it that way. But then, why wouldn't they? He'd always thought the color was nice. A deep forest green. It wasn't anything like Cali's door, which was the next house over. Her door was a brilliant red. He used to always tease her about it. She said that it meant welcome. He said it reminded him of blood.
Blood. . .
It was like a flood. Every street light, every yard, every house, they all had stories. They all had memories. Kieran took a deep breath, pushing his feet forward. It didn't seem normal. Didn't seem like this place could hold all this pain. Not when it was a place of so many childhood memories. Why did they all ache? Was it because each one had Cali in them? Was it because she wasn't with him? Would he even want her there if she'd offered?
Kieran turned away, feeling bile rise in his throat. He didn't know why he'd come back. He didn't know why he felt the need to torture himself. Was it just another punishment? Something to show him what he could never have again? He was never going to return to this life. It wasn't his. He didn't have a right to it.
He didn't have the right to want it either.
Chapter One
“I swear, I won't put the worm in your mouth.” Kieran crossed his hand over his heart, a fiendish grin on his face, “Now close your eyes.”
“I don't believe you,” Cali scowled down at the wriggling creature in Kieran's hands, her nose wrinkling in disgust, “You'll try to put it down my shirt, or something.”
“I will not.” Kieran shook his head, “You have to trust me.”
“Um. . . No.”
“I dare you.”
“No.”
“I DOUBLE dare you.”
“Mom said double dares were stupid.” Cali crossed her arms. Kieran was tempted to grab her and shake her, just for fun.
“Your mom obviously doesn't know the rules,” he explained, his face attempting at sincerity, “Once you've been dared, you can't back down.”
“Mom said. . .”
“Mom said, mom said, what are you, a goody good?”
“I don't want you sticking that worm down my mouth!” Cali grabbed at it, taking Kieran by surprise and knocking him over. They wrestled for a second, Kieran trying to keep the worm out of Cali's reach while she desperately clawed for it.
“Stop! You're going to kill it!”
“Then give it to me!”
“No!” Kieran jerked his hand back just as Cali lunged forward. Her head collided with his jaw, making him gasp in pain. He jerked his hand forward, the worm wiggling free and slapping Cali in the face.
“Kieran!” Cali screamed smacking her face with her hands, squirming away from him and panicking, “It's in my hair! Kieran it's in my hair!”
“Hold still! Hold still and I'll get it out!”
“It's in my hair, Kieran! Kieran!”
A silver car turned onto the street. The engine purred nicely as it crept up the street at the slow pace required of everyone traveling in a family neighborhood. Kieran finally managed to pull the worm away from Cali, throwing it into the dirt. The car crept closer, Cali turned to look at it, frowning.
“Who's car is that?” she asked, distracted. Kieran followed her gaze and frowned. He didn't recognize it. It was too shiny to be a car that came from their neighborhood. It pulled up to them, rolling down it's windows.
“Hey kids,” The man poked his head out the window. He had light brown hair and a cheerful smile. The summer day was bright, so he had sunglasses on against the glare. Kieran frowned, shifting his feet uncomfortably. Something bothered him about the man. He seemed normal, but Kieran never liked strangers. His mom had just had a new baby, and Kieran felt like every stranger that came by was trying to steal his baby brother. Plus the man's smile. . . it was really white. Almost obnoxiously white. No good person could have teeth that looked like that. “Do you know how to get to Walmart?”
“Walmart?” Cali repeated, frowning. “It's down the hill.” Kieran couldn't tell where the man was looking, because of his sunglasses, but he felt like he was being watched. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and took Cali's hand. He pointed with the other, back the way the car had driven.
“Turn that way,” he motioned with his left hand, “And go down the hill. Once you're there you should see it across the busy street.”
“Thanks Kieran,” the man smiled, pulling back into his car, “You know,” he said, “You usually don't see two kids like you playing together.” Kieran looked at Cali, then the hot summer sun above them, and then at the other kids littered around the coldesac.
“What do you mean?”
“How old are you?” The man asked instead. Kieran hesitated.
“We're nine.” Cali frowned, her blue eyes confused, “Why?”
“Just wondering.” The man began to pull his car backwards. Kieran felt a rush of anger at him. He grabbed one of the rocks by the road and threw it, hoping it broke through his windshield. The car sped away, and Kieran almost thought he saw the man laughing.
“Kieran!” Cali shouted, shoving him, “You can't do that!”
“That guy was creepy, Cali.”
“So? What would your. . .”
“If you say mom, I swear I'm going to hit you.” Kieran scowled. Cali sighed and turned away.
“You can't just throw rocks at cars,” she said firmly, “It's wrong.”
“Not when they're creepy.”
“Even when they're creepy.”
“Well, that's a stupid rule.” Kieran turned toward his house, pulling Cali's hand, “Come on, let's go get some lemonade.”
“Yum, okay!”
Kieran was almost afraid that Cali would tattle on him and tell his mom about how he threw the rock at the car, but she didn't say anything. She threw him a look when his mother's back was turned, but otherwise kept her opinions to herself, which he was grateful for. They had sandwich's and lemonade. Kieran's baby brother was trying to nap, so they had to be extra quiet. It was just a typical summer day. The two friends had spent every day of summer vacation terrorizing their little town. They took turns going to the other person's house, though Kieran was always really excited when Cali came to his house. It wasn't too long ago that he didn't think his mom would let him be friends with Cali anymore, because she was a girl.
“You need to spend sometime with the boys too,” she'd said.
“Why?”
“Because. . .Sometimes it's good to be with boys, and other times with girls.”
“But Cali's not a boy.”
“No, she's not.”
“But how can I spend time with boys when Cali isn't a boy?”
Sometimes it was better to just not ask questions.
Years later, Kieran would remember everything they did that day. It wasn't like it was any different than most other days. The only notable thing at all was the appearance of the creepy stranger. But every detail was still burned into the boy's memory. He remembered how they biked down to the river by the horse pastures and played in the water even though their parents had told them not to. He remembered that they camped out in Cali's backyard, with a fire pit and marshmallows. He remembered that Cali's parents taught him the constellations and told them about the Greek myths.
He wanted to remember all of it. Because if he didn't, then none of it would have been real. And everything would have just been a nightmare from the beginning.
But it wasn't. It didn't start out that way. The nightmare began when someone ripped the tent open.
The neighborhood wasn't extravagant. It followed a little side road, bending into a coldasac. The sidewalks were cracked and worn looking. It wasn't like the place had been there for a long time. It just seemed well used. Children still ran around and played in the trees. Some kids were riding their bikes on the road, trying to make sharp turns and race each other back to their driveways.
Kieran kept his head down, looking only at the sidewalk slabs as he moved his feet slowly forward. Why was he doing this? It was just like stabbing himself repeatedly through the heart. He could feel the organ pulsing in his chest, but he didn't really want to think about it. He just knew that he needed to come back. He needed to look at this place. The home where he grew up, where everything began. Lifting his head a little, he watched the children playing. Their bikes were of a different style, they wore different clothing, but everything else was essentially the same. They'd even made a make-shift jump from old wooden planks no doubt taken from their father's tool sheds. Kieran couldn't help the small smile from forming as he watched them.
And there, over by the red bricked house was the apple tree he and Cali had climbed. She'd slipped and broken her arm. Kieran almost laughed aloud at the memory, though he'd been panicking at the time. He'd thought she was going to die, and while he'd been panicking, Cali had been screaming her head off. They'd only been around six or seven.
Kieran walked up to the tree, putting his hand on the rough bark. It was a lot bigger than it used to be. He could probably even climb it now and have it hold his weight. Part of him was tempted to do just that. Throw down his pack and scramble up into the branches just like when he was a child. He wondered if the view was the same. If the two branches that perfectly provided cover so they could peek out and spy on the neighborhood were still in the right spot. He wondered if the apples tasted as sweet. Probably. Why would the taste of apples change? But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if they had. Couldn't help but wonder if even something as small as the crunch of an apple could escape the change.
The gravel crunched under his feet as he headed toward his house. His old house, more appropriately. It still had a green door. Kieran was kind of surprised the new owners had kept it that way. But then, why wouldn't they? He'd always thought the color was nice. A deep forest green. It wasn't anything like Cali's door, which was the next house over. Her door was a brilliant red. He used to always tease her about it. She said that it meant welcome. He said it reminded him of blood.
Blood. . .
It was like a flood. Every street light, every yard, every house, they all had stories. They all had memories. Kieran took a deep breath, pushing his feet forward. It didn't seem normal. Didn't seem like this place could hold all this pain. Not when it was a place of so many childhood memories. Why did they all ache? Was it because each one had Cali in them? Was it because she wasn't with him? Would he even want her there if she'd offered?
Kieran turned away, feeling bile rise in his throat. He didn't know why he'd come back. He didn't know why he felt the need to torture himself. Was it just another punishment? Something to show him what he could never have again? He was never going to return to this life. It wasn't his. He didn't have a right to it.
He didn't have the right to want it either.
Chapter One
“I swear, I won't put the worm in your mouth.” Kieran crossed his hand over his heart, a fiendish grin on his face, “Now close your eyes.”
“I don't believe you,” Cali scowled down at the wriggling creature in Kieran's hands, her nose wrinkling in disgust, “You'll try to put it down my shirt, or something.”
“I will not.” Kieran shook his head, “You have to trust me.”
“Um. . . No.”
“I dare you.”
“No.”
“I DOUBLE dare you.”
“Mom said double dares were stupid.” Cali crossed her arms. Kieran was tempted to grab her and shake her, just for fun.
“Your mom obviously doesn't know the rules,” he explained, his face attempting at sincerity, “Once you've been dared, you can't back down.”
“Mom said. . .”
“Mom said, mom said, what are you, a goody good?”
“I don't want you sticking that worm down my mouth!” Cali grabbed at it, taking Kieran by surprise and knocking him over. They wrestled for a second, Kieran trying to keep the worm out of Cali's reach while she desperately clawed for it.
“Stop! You're going to kill it!”
“Then give it to me!”
“No!” Kieran jerked his hand back just as Cali lunged forward. Her head collided with his jaw, making him gasp in pain. He jerked his hand forward, the worm wiggling free and slapping Cali in the face.
“Kieran!” Cali screamed smacking her face with her hands, squirming away from him and panicking, “It's in my hair! Kieran it's in my hair!”
“Hold still! Hold still and I'll get it out!”
“It's in my hair, Kieran! Kieran!”
A silver car turned onto the street. The engine purred nicely as it crept up the street at the slow pace required of everyone traveling in a family neighborhood. Kieran finally managed to pull the worm away from Cali, throwing it into the dirt. The car crept closer, Cali turned to look at it, frowning.
“Who's car is that?” she asked, distracted. Kieran followed her gaze and frowned. He didn't recognize it. It was too shiny to be a car that came from their neighborhood. It pulled up to them, rolling down it's windows.
“Hey kids,” The man poked his head out the window. He had light brown hair and a cheerful smile. The summer day was bright, so he had sunglasses on against the glare. Kieran frowned, shifting his feet uncomfortably. Something bothered him about the man. He seemed normal, but Kieran never liked strangers. His mom had just had a new baby, and Kieran felt like every stranger that came by was trying to steal his baby brother. Plus the man's smile. . . it was really white. Almost obnoxiously white. No good person could have teeth that looked like that. “Do you know how to get to Walmart?”
“Walmart?” Cali repeated, frowning. “It's down the hill.” Kieran couldn't tell where the man was looking, because of his sunglasses, but he felt like he was being watched. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and took Cali's hand. He pointed with the other, back the way the car had driven.
“Turn that way,” he motioned with his left hand, “And go down the hill. Once you're there you should see it across the busy street.”
“Thanks Kieran,” the man smiled, pulling back into his car, “You know,” he said, “You usually don't see two kids like you playing together.” Kieran looked at Cali, then the hot summer sun above them, and then at the other kids littered around the coldesac.
“What do you mean?”
“How old are you?” The man asked instead. Kieran hesitated.
“We're nine.” Cali frowned, her blue eyes confused, “Why?”
“Just wondering.” The man began to pull his car backwards. Kieran felt a rush of anger at him. He grabbed one of the rocks by the road and threw it, hoping it broke through his windshield. The car sped away, and Kieran almost thought he saw the man laughing.
“Kieran!” Cali shouted, shoving him, “You can't do that!”
“That guy was creepy, Cali.”
“So? What would your. . .”
“If you say mom, I swear I'm going to hit you.” Kieran scowled. Cali sighed and turned away.
“You can't just throw rocks at cars,” she said firmly, “It's wrong.”
“Not when they're creepy.”
“Even when they're creepy.”
“Well, that's a stupid rule.” Kieran turned toward his house, pulling Cali's hand, “Come on, let's go get some lemonade.”
“Yum, okay!”
Kieran was almost afraid that Cali would tattle on him and tell his mom about how he threw the rock at the car, but she didn't say anything. She threw him a look when his mother's back was turned, but otherwise kept her opinions to herself, which he was grateful for. They had sandwich's and lemonade. Kieran's baby brother was trying to nap, so they had to be extra quiet. It was just a typical summer day. The two friends had spent every day of summer vacation terrorizing their little town. They took turns going to the other person's house, though Kieran was always really excited when Cali came to his house. It wasn't too long ago that he didn't think his mom would let him be friends with Cali anymore, because she was a girl.
“You need to spend sometime with the boys too,” she'd said.
“Why?”
“Because. . .Sometimes it's good to be with boys, and other times with girls.”
“But Cali's not a boy.”
“No, she's not.”
“But how can I spend time with boys when Cali isn't a boy?”
Sometimes it was better to just not ask questions.
Years later, Kieran would remember everything they did that day. It wasn't like it was any different than most other days. The only notable thing at all was the appearance of the creepy stranger. But every detail was still burned into the boy's memory. He remembered how they biked down to the river by the horse pastures and played in the water even though their parents had told them not to. He remembered that they camped out in Cali's backyard, with a fire pit and marshmallows. He remembered that Cali's parents taught him the constellations and told them about the Greek myths.
He wanted to remember all of it. Because if he didn't, then none of it would have been real. And everything would have just been a nightmare from the beginning.
But it wasn't. It didn't start out that way. The nightmare began when someone ripped the tent open.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Shadows
Two shadows followed them.
It was just a normal shadow, following behind them because their bodies blocked out the sun. There were two, just walking down the road that didn't seem that extraordinary. There were mountains in the distance, a sunset on the horizon. The shadows held hands, though the people didn't touch.
They were talking, low murmurs as they walked. Neither wanted the walk to end, but neither could allow it to continue on forever. The shadows held onto each other tightly, as though trying to become one shadow, one patch of darkness smeared over the ground.
The first person stopped, turning toward the second. They stood and faced each other, still speaking softly. The second was shaking their head, covering their face. But the first continued to speak. The shadows turned to each other as well. One reached inside itself, pulling out a shadowy heart. It pushed its gift toward the first, gesturing for the other to take it. It was vulnerable, pulsing. The first shadow pushed the heart away, almost afraid.
“Please,” The second person whispered, reaching to touch their friend. The first turned away, tears flecking their face. The shadow slumped in on itself, quivering. Then pulled something from inside itself. The second shadow still held the heart, reluctant to pull it in. The first brought out a long sharp tool.
The knife wasn't substantial. It was a just a shadow, an echo of something real. But it was sharp, like the tooth of a jaguar, or the tongue of snake. It reached forward, piercing into the tender skin of the vulnerable muscle. It sliced through the meat, ripping the soft organ apart, like the tearing of a lamp chop or chewing through a steak. The second shadow tried to pull back, squirming and writhing in terror and pain. The person reached out to the companion, trying to touch their hair. The second fell back, holding their head in their hands. Both shadow and human shook and trembled, their movements matched and reflecting. The shadow pulled into itself, becoming nothing more than the huddled shadow of the huddled person who sat on the ground, unable to stand.
Tears streaked down the first person's face, as they turned away and began to walk back down the path. But the shadow smiled as it turned away, pulling out a cloth to methodically clean its hardened blade.
It was just a normal shadow, following behind them because their bodies blocked out the sun. There were two, just walking down the road that didn't seem that extraordinary. There were mountains in the distance, a sunset on the horizon. The shadows held hands, though the people didn't touch.
They were talking, low murmurs as they walked. Neither wanted the walk to end, but neither could allow it to continue on forever. The shadows held onto each other tightly, as though trying to become one shadow, one patch of darkness smeared over the ground.
The first person stopped, turning toward the second. They stood and faced each other, still speaking softly. The second was shaking their head, covering their face. But the first continued to speak. The shadows turned to each other as well. One reached inside itself, pulling out a shadowy heart. It pushed its gift toward the first, gesturing for the other to take it. It was vulnerable, pulsing. The first shadow pushed the heart away, almost afraid.
“Please,” The second person whispered, reaching to touch their friend. The first turned away, tears flecking their face. The shadow slumped in on itself, quivering. Then pulled something from inside itself. The second shadow still held the heart, reluctant to pull it in. The first brought out a long sharp tool.
The knife wasn't substantial. It was a just a shadow, an echo of something real. But it was sharp, like the tooth of a jaguar, or the tongue of snake. It reached forward, piercing into the tender skin of the vulnerable muscle. It sliced through the meat, ripping the soft organ apart, like the tearing of a lamp chop or chewing through a steak. The second shadow tried to pull back, squirming and writhing in terror and pain. The person reached out to the companion, trying to touch their hair. The second fell back, holding their head in their hands. Both shadow and human shook and trembled, their movements matched and reflecting. The shadow pulled into itself, becoming nothing more than the huddled shadow of the huddled person who sat on the ground, unable to stand.
Tears streaked down the first person's face, as they turned away and began to walk back down the path. But the shadow smiled as it turned away, pulling out a cloth to methodically clean its hardened blade.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Sonnet
So, My old Creative Writing Teacher made me write a poem because I was bored. And I figure, why not post it? I like posting things.
So here it is!
They dominate the Western lands
With all their fright'ning power
Emotions are cold, unclear and sour
As they hold us in their hands
And the beaches and sands
Morph into her dower
Never to be free of this frightening coward
Who fears to release our bands
But the people rebelled
Because when a person sees clear
He recalls all that he holds dear
He sees the black smoke, the waste, and the pain
As the companies continue their weld
And will fight them off for his own gain.
So here it is!
They dominate the Western lands
With all their fright'ning power
Emotions are cold, unclear and sour
As they hold us in their hands
And the beaches and sands
Morph into her dower
Never to be free of this frightening coward
Who fears to release our bands
But the people rebelled
Because when a person sees clear
He recalls all that he holds dear
He sees the black smoke, the waste, and the pain
As the companies continue their weld
And will fight them off for his own gain.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Light
So this is just a sketch. I think the idea is cool but I'm not sure if I'm completely satisfied with the results just yet. Please tell me what you think so I can know where I should fix it or how I can make it better. Thanks!
She held a light.
It was small, barely noticeable. But it glowed around her, illuminating the small patch of concrete she stood on. There wasn't much around, except the concrete and the light. She pulled the light closer to her chest, hoping that it wouldn't go out, because it flickered and dimmed but would then brighten. If the light went out, there would be nothing but the darkness. Nothing but the shadows.
But for now, she stood there in the light, with the fringes of the abyss reaching toward her, but still held at bay. She liked it that way. She could see the abyss, she could see the darkness, but it couldn't touch her. She was safe.
But for how long?
The light flickered again, sending little rays to push at the dark but then returning as it pulled back. It wasn't a normal kind of darkness. It didn't seem content to stay at the edges, it wanted to reach out and touch her. Reach out and pull her in. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. What would she do if it reached her? What would she do if it didn't stop until there was nothing but the black night?
She wasn't sure if she was content to simply sit there in the darkness, with nothing but the light to keep her safe. What if just this little light wasn't enough and the shadows and darkness grabbed her? She needed to move, move forward, sideways, or backwards, it didn't matter. She just needed to get away from her small slab of concrete. She needed to find her way out of the dark and into the light. Because there had to be light. She didn't know why, but she knew that there couldn't always just be dark everywhere. Somewhere, some place, there was light, and she needed to find it. It was very important.
Very. . . important. . . She took a step. The ground quivered a little bit, and the light flickered threateningly. She shivered, but didn't stop. She needed to keep moving. If she didn't move, then nothing would happen. And that was bad. Wasn't it? Her mouth felt funny, like something was different about it. It felt strange. She swallowed to make it go away, but the feeling remained. Her steps were coming faster now, and she had to keep herself from bolting forward. She needed to be careful. She didn't want to trip.
Wait. . . what was a trip? But she knew. . . she knew that tripping was when you fell. She couldn't fall. It was vital, if she fell, her light might go out. She pulled her light closer again, her heart beating frantically. The light must not go out. It must never be allowed to go out.
The sounds of her steps echoed against the blackness. Instead of swallowing it up, it seemed to bounce back at her, each step a soft thud. The girl took a deep breath, feeling something surge in her chest. It felt a little like the light, or a balloon, but inside her. She blew it out and whistled, the tune simple but sweet. It was easy to keep track of, easy to walk to, and the sound bounced off the darkness and wrapped around her. Like a blanket. She whistled louder. Her light grew brighter and the night seemed to push back a little, freeing her even more. The concrete wasn't so plain now. There were little specs of color in it, like glitter. The girl rubbed her foot along the floor, feeling the roughness, the texture. It was then that she realized that she was barefoot, the ground rough against her feet. It felt nice, and she wiggled her toes as she walked, revealing in the feeling of the ground beneath them.
The light was very bright then. It shined around her like a halo, brightening her step and sending her music floating through the air. She twisted, letting herself dance. Her feet played across the ground, sending her through the steps gracefully. She was alone, but she was free. She was beautiful. There was a silver dress that draped her frame, and it swung out as she spun. The material was soft, glistening in the brilliant light around her. She laughed, the sound breaking the darkness apart. Bits of it cracked, and the light sped into them, illuminating the area all around. There was still blackness, but the light was large, so that the girl could see a great many things around her.
The ground was no longer just concrete, but tiles, smooth and brilliant. There were cracks in it, large and jagged pieces torn up from the ground and leaving large chasms gaping in the earth. The girl paused, surprised at the ugliness the light illuminated. Her light grew smaller, the sights disappearing before her, until the light was just a small circle around her once more.
The darkness hid the torn up ground, but now she was afraid. She stopped, and stood there for a moment, clutching the light to her chest. She was afraid that it would go out, but she was also afraid of what it might show.
But then she saw the other lights. Dim, and far away, but she could see them. They were yellow, or white, far away and in the distance, but they were definitely there. Were there people in those lights? Were there others like her? She took another step forward, but was afraid to keep going. What would she find? Or would she fall into the gaping chasms around her? But. . . how could she keep going if she couldn't see?
She had to see.
“Melanie!” The voice echoed along the darkness, but the girl recognized it. “Melanie!” it was a name. It was her name. Melanie felt the light grow brighter, and she was aware of the tile beneath her feet and the dress hanging on her shoulders. It felt nice, and carefully, she pressed her lips together and sent out the little tune. An answering whistle drifted back through the darkness. She smiled, and with one bounce of her heels, ran toward the sound.
Melanie's light grew brighter, the glow illuminating her steps once again as she danced, but now more lights were alongside hers. They didn't touch, but she could see them. Other people, men and women, all dancing with their lights glowing around them. Many of them laughed, all were smiling, and all looked at her with a bright joy in their eyes. Their eyes! They were green, gold, brown, black, blue, and every shade between. One of the girls ran to her and threw her arms around her, “Melanie,” she said, holding her shoulders and pulling back. She wore a golden dress, with the same design as the girl. Her name was. . .
“Jill,” The girl whispered. Jill smiled and took her hand. Their lights both grew brighter, illuminating four times as much as when they stood alone. The others turned toward them and hesitated, but Melanie gestured for them to come forward. One boy took a breath and called out the whistle, and Melanie and Jill answered. The boy came forward. He wore a plain white t-shirt and tan pants. He approached them cautiously, since they were standing still. Melanie held out her hand, and he took it. They both grinned widely as the light broke forward, and though it illuminated broken landscape and wrecked grounds, the light was beautiful. Like crystal or gems. The boy was named Michael.
“Michael,” Melanie whispered. He nodded, then turned his gaze out to the people still in the dark. Their lights were strong, but when they stood together it was stronger.
“Jacob,” Michael said, holding out his hand. Another boy stepped forward, hesitantly, but with determination. Jill held out her hand as well. He came forward and grasped it. Michael clapped his free hand and clapped him on the shoulder. There were tears in his eyes, but the light grew so bright that they glittered like precious stones upon his face. The others were out there still. But they came. One at a time. And they clasped the free hands of the people who had joined the circle. They clasped the hands until everyone was together, all connected in a great line. Their light was so bright that there was no spec of darkness in the entire area. It was all filled with light.
And the sight was beautifully terrifying.
There were people. Lying down in the once darkness. Their faces cracked, their eyes shut, their limbs splayed apart on the floor. All of them lay on the ground, all of them had tracks of tears rolling down their cheeks. There were men and women, with different clothing and hairstyles, with different skin colors and facial features. They were all so different, and yet all the same. Because all looked so very alone.
Melanie pulled her hands free of Jill and Michael. They stared at her, reaching out to grab hold of her again, but she pushed them gently away. It was hard to pull away from the crowd and approach the still bodies on the floor. Part of her wanted to flee back to the safety of the others, but she pushed herself onward. If she had been on the ground, she would hope that someone would come to her. She knelt by the person closest to their group. She knew him. His name was Richard. She pulled him gently toward her. Pulling him into her lap. “Richard?” she whispered, brushing back his hair, “Richard?” his eyes fluttered and new tears began to fall. As the brilliant green eyes opened he only stared at her, then shook his head, mouthing a silent denial.
“It's okay,” Melanie said. And the world shattered. The words weren't just a name. They were a confirmation. Something new, something different. “It's okay.” Melanie said again. The world wasn't being destroyed. The shatter cracked open the light, bringing forth something. . . more. The other bodies began to stir, a little light resting gently upon their chest. Melanie helped Richard to his feet, and the others began to help the waking ones.
As more of them were helped to their feet, the light began to overcome everything. There was no darkness now, no shadows or hidden areas. It was beautiful and it was frightening. Though many were stirring, the bodies stretched into the distance, lying on their backs or their bellies, as still as death, and the landscape was still broken and terrifying. But the light showed it all. Melanie straightened her back and took a step forward, the others following behind her. The way was rough, many had fallen, but they were here now.
And their lights had yet to go out.
She held a light.
It was small, barely noticeable. But it glowed around her, illuminating the small patch of concrete she stood on. There wasn't much around, except the concrete and the light. She pulled the light closer to her chest, hoping that it wouldn't go out, because it flickered and dimmed but would then brighten. If the light went out, there would be nothing but the darkness. Nothing but the shadows.
But for now, she stood there in the light, with the fringes of the abyss reaching toward her, but still held at bay. She liked it that way. She could see the abyss, she could see the darkness, but it couldn't touch her. She was safe.
But for how long?
The light flickered again, sending little rays to push at the dark but then returning as it pulled back. It wasn't a normal kind of darkness. It didn't seem content to stay at the edges, it wanted to reach out and touch her. Reach out and pull her in. She wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. What would she do if it reached her? What would she do if it didn't stop until there was nothing but the black night?
She wasn't sure if she was content to simply sit there in the darkness, with nothing but the light to keep her safe. What if just this little light wasn't enough and the shadows and darkness grabbed her? She needed to move, move forward, sideways, or backwards, it didn't matter. She just needed to get away from her small slab of concrete. She needed to find her way out of the dark and into the light. Because there had to be light. She didn't know why, but she knew that there couldn't always just be dark everywhere. Somewhere, some place, there was light, and she needed to find it. It was very important.
Very. . . important. . . She took a step. The ground quivered a little bit, and the light flickered threateningly. She shivered, but didn't stop. She needed to keep moving. If she didn't move, then nothing would happen. And that was bad. Wasn't it? Her mouth felt funny, like something was different about it. It felt strange. She swallowed to make it go away, but the feeling remained. Her steps were coming faster now, and she had to keep herself from bolting forward. She needed to be careful. She didn't want to trip.
Wait. . . what was a trip? But she knew. . . she knew that tripping was when you fell. She couldn't fall. It was vital, if she fell, her light might go out. She pulled her light closer again, her heart beating frantically. The light must not go out. It must never be allowed to go out.
The sounds of her steps echoed against the blackness. Instead of swallowing it up, it seemed to bounce back at her, each step a soft thud. The girl took a deep breath, feeling something surge in her chest. It felt a little like the light, or a balloon, but inside her. She blew it out and whistled, the tune simple but sweet. It was easy to keep track of, easy to walk to, and the sound bounced off the darkness and wrapped around her. Like a blanket. She whistled louder. Her light grew brighter and the night seemed to push back a little, freeing her even more. The concrete wasn't so plain now. There were little specs of color in it, like glitter. The girl rubbed her foot along the floor, feeling the roughness, the texture. It was then that she realized that she was barefoot, the ground rough against her feet. It felt nice, and she wiggled her toes as she walked, revealing in the feeling of the ground beneath them.
The light was very bright then. It shined around her like a halo, brightening her step and sending her music floating through the air. She twisted, letting herself dance. Her feet played across the ground, sending her through the steps gracefully. She was alone, but she was free. She was beautiful. There was a silver dress that draped her frame, and it swung out as she spun. The material was soft, glistening in the brilliant light around her. She laughed, the sound breaking the darkness apart. Bits of it cracked, and the light sped into them, illuminating the area all around. There was still blackness, but the light was large, so that the girl could see a great many things around her.
The ground was no longer just concrete, but tiles, smooth and brilliant. There were cracks in it, large and jagged pieces torn up from the ground and leaving large chasms gaping in the earth. The girl paused, surprised at the ugliness the light illuminated. Her light grew smaller, the sights disappearing before her, until the light was just a small circle around her once more.
The darkness hid the torn up ground, but now she was afraid. She stopped, and stood there for a moment, clutching the light to her chest. She was afraid that it would go out, but she was also afraid of what it might show.
But then she saw the other lights. Dim, and far away, but she could see them. They were yellow, or white, far away and in the distance, but they were definitely there. Were there people in those lights? Were there others like her? She took another step forward, but was afraid to keep going. What would she find? Or would she fall into the gaping chasms around her? But. . . how could she keep going if she couldn't see?
She had to see.
“Melanie!” The voice echoed along the darkness, but the girl recognized it. “Melanie!” it was a name. It was her name. Melanie felt the light grow brighter, and she was aware of the tile beneath her feet and the dress hanging on her shoulders. It felt nice, and carefully, she pressed her lips together and sent out the little tune. An answering whistle drifted back through the darkness. She smiled, and with one bounce of her heels, ran toward the sound.
Melanie's light grew brighter, the glow illuminating her steps once again as she danced, but now more lights were alongside hers. They didn't touch, but she could see them. Other people, men and women, all dancing with their lights glowing around them. Many of them laughed, all were smiling, and all looked at her with a bright joy in their eyes. Their eyes! They were green, gold, brown, black, blue, and every shade between. One of the girls ran to her and threw her arms around her, “Melanie,” she said, holding her shoulders and pulling back. She wore a golden dress, with the same design as the girl. Her name was. . .
“Jill,” The girl whispered. Jill smiled and took her hand. Their lights both grew brighter, illuminating four times as much as when they stood alone. The others turned toward them and hesitated, but Melanie gestured for them to come forward. One boy took a breath and called out the whistle, and Melanie and Jill answered. The boy came forward. He wore a plain white t-shirt and tan pants. He approached them cautiously, since they were standing still. Melanie held out her hand, and he took it. They both grinned widely as the light broke forward, and though it illuminated broken landscape and wrecked grounds, the light was beautiful. Like crystal or gems. The boy was named Michael.
“Michael,” Melanie whispered. He nodded, then turned his gaze out to the people still in the dark. Their lights were strong, but when they stood together it was stronger.
“Jacob,” Michael said, holding out his hand. Another boy stepped forward, hesitantly, but with determination. Jill held out her hand as well. He came forward and grasped it. Michael clapped his free hand and clapped him on the shoulder. There were tears in his eyes, but the light grew so bright that they glittered like precious stones upon his face. The others were out there still. But they came. One at a time. And they clasped the free hands of the people who had joined the circle. They clasped the hands until everyone was together, all connected in a great line. Their light was so bright that there was no spec of darkness in the entire area. It was all filled with light.
And the sight was beautifully terrifying.
There were people. Lying down in the once darkness. Their faces cracked, their eyes shut, their limbs splayed apart on the floor. All of them lay on the ground, all of them had tracks of tears rolling down their cheeks. There were men and women, with different clothing and hairstyles, with different skin colors and facial features. They were all so different, and yet all the same. Because all looked so very alone.
Melanie pulled her hands free of Jill and Michael. They stared at her, reaching out to grab hold of her again, but she pushed them gently away. It was hard to pull away from the crowd and approach the still bodies on the floor. Part of her wanted to flee back to the safety of the others, but she pushed herself onward. If she had been on the ground, she would hope that someone would come to her. She knelt by the person closest to their group. She knew him. His name was Richard. She pulled him gently toward her. Pulling him into her lap. “Richard?” she whispered, brushing back his hair, “Richard?” his eyes fluttered and new tears began to fall. As the brilliant green eyes opened he only stared at her, then shook his head, mouthing a silent denial.
“It's okay,” Melanie said. And the world shattered. The words weren't just a name. They were a confirmation. Something new, something different. “It's okay.” Melanie said again. The world wasn't being destroyed. The shatter cracked open the light, bringing forth something. . . more. The other bodies began to stir, a little light resting gently upon their chest. Melanie helped Richard to his feet, and the others began to help the waking ones.
As more of them were helped to their feet, the light began to overcome everything. There was no darkness now, no shadows or hidden areas. It was beautiful and it was frightening. Though many were stirring, the bodies stretched into the distance, lying on their backs or their bellies, as still as death, and the landscape was still broken and terrifying. But the light showed it all. Melanie straightened her back and took a step forward, the others following behind her. The way was rough, many had fallen, but they were here now.
And their lights had yet to go out.
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