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Her voice was stern, her body broad, and her eyes were as cold as the stone that covered the walls around me. I didn't want to be here so, I gave her attitude as I looked her in the eye.
“I don't understand why I am here,” I said as I counted every reason of why I was miserable, in my head.
“You are here because you need to be.” She spoke in a voice that I was sure it sounded like a man over the phone. Her hands gripped around her chair tightly, as if she were waiting for something... or someone.
“Well that’s a vague answer,” I retorted. It wasn't too long ago when my idiotic step mother decided it would be fun to ruin my life (because that is her main hobby) and completely move my life the Olson Self Defense Academy where the kids spend an entire year being bored out of their mind in school and learn how to beat each other senseless. That would be their motto if it wasn't so long. But when my 'mom' handed me a uniform, I knew I had to say goodbye to any chance of a normal life. And with my father gone and my true mother dead, I had no say whatsoever.
“Look,” she said. “I understand why you are confused and don't understand why you are here but I swear to you, things will get better.” She sighed and looked around. “Your father has been concerned about you Samantha-”
“Sam,” I corrected.
She pressed her lips together and said “Sam,” she paused again. “Life can be scary sometimes, but you just have to put your trust in your loved ones.”
“You’re not a 'loved one' to me,” I said.“I know but your dad is,” she strictly. “I will have Penelope give you a tour and show you to your dorm.”“But-” I said“Ms. Fouler, I will tell you this once and once only, I do not except buts.”She called up Penelope over the intercom. Five minuets later a girl with dark brown hair, and wide hazel eyes walked in. Her teeth shined white a she smiled and said, “May I help you ma'am?” She glanced my way quickly, as if she were afraid to look. Then returned her focus back on the headmaster.“Yes, Ms. Davis please escort our new student... Sam... around the school and to her dorm.”“Sure.” She looked at me, with confidence this time. I followed her out of the room, and for the first time since I entered this prison of a school, I was scared.
***
The school hall was as cold as Ms. Olson's heart. The classrooms, however, were warm, with a sort of 'home' feel to it. Penelope smiled and with her thick accent said “You are just going to love it here. Everybody is just so friendly, and sweet, and you will just be so-” I interrupted her.
“I don't want to be here,” I told her simply and with desperation, in hope she would tell me a way out of here. We walked down the hallway passing kids who had their noses stuck in their books. Those who didn't however, gave me the 'you better stay out of my way or I will make the rest of your life miserable' look.
“Oh...” she said. “Why?”
That was the last question I wanted to hear right now. “Because I don't belong here.” I sighed.
“Well then...” she hesitated. “Make yourself belong here. I help you start.” She held out her hand firmly. “Hello Sam, my name is Penelope, but you can call me Penny.” She smiled, with her eyes full of hope.
***
The rest of the tour was... interesting... I'm not going to lie. Penny showed me everything, and when I say everything, I mean it. She showed me the cafeteria, auditorium, the self-defense studio (or as the kids called it just 'studio') and everything in between. Finally she showed me our dorm. She knocked silently and opened the door to which I found three beds, one of them was plain old white, which I figured was mine. The light was on, but the room felt like it was ready for sleep, just like I was. The scent of perfume was so strong; it felt like I was applying it just by standing there. The room was decorated girly with pale pink walls and green decor. It reminded me of home so much, it hurt. “Here is our room. You will be sharing it with Jessica and me.” She said. Just then a girl walked out of the bathroom. She had black hair with pink highlights at the tips to hide the split ends (smart move), shocking blue eyes, and blinding white teeth.
“You called?” she asked and giggled. Just like Penny she stuck out her hand and gave me a firm handshake. “I heard we were going to be sharing a room with someone new, and honestly I wasn't that thrilled, but you seem like an awesome girl.” I didn't know if that was a complement or an insult. But I smiled and said thanks. I turned to my bed.
“Arnold will be here any minuet with your stuff,” Penny said. “But we could go get something to eat.” I nodded. Jessica sensed my mood I guess because she said, “Hey kid, don't worry, we're here for you.” I smiled, took a deep breath, wiped the sweat of my hands ('Cause that's what I do when I get nervous), and spoke “O.K.”
***
Walking down the hall felt like walking to my doom. The sweat in my hands only got worse, as the suspense got greater. When I first, walked in the school, I was so mad, I could never have been scared, now I couldn't be more frightened. We walked into the cafeteria, and, when I say this I mean it, every pair of eyes was on me. As I walked down the aisle, my footsteps echoed.
The smell of food was comforting, so I relaxed a little. I sat down, and all the air out of my lungs. There in the table in front of me was my old childhood friend: Bradley. I froze. He looked at me with the same shock then went back to his conversation. I blinked and looked away. Jessica offered me food, but I couldn't eat. I haven't seen Brad in three years, I thought he was dead! A million thoughts raced through my mind, I went to his funeral... I saw him dead! I could feel myself trying to fight back the tears. Penny looked at me. "You alright?" I nodded and stuffed my face with food, hoping it could hide my real emotions. “Just Relax,” I told myself, you are probably just seeing things.
Ms. Olson stepped in front of the podium and taped on the microphone to get our attention. All heads turned toward her as she smiled and said, “Good evening everyone, I hope you are enjoying your meal.” A couple of kids around me smiled and nodded. “I know we rarely accept students in the middle of the semester, but a new student has arrived, please give a warm welcome to Samantha Carter!” I froze in my seat. The entire hall echoed with applause, but not the kind you want, the kind that turns your face steaming red, and you can feel your neck burning. For the first time since I was six, I wanted to cry. Jessica nudged me to stand-up and walk to the front, so I did, with my head held high like nothing was wrong, but really, I wanted to throw up.
My mouth was as dry as the surface of the sun. Jessica and Penny flashed me smiles, but all I could do was nod. I taped on the microphone and gave my famous ‘fake smile’ (I always had a gift for those) and said “Hello everyone, my name is Sam.” I glanced over at Brad, but he was gone. “I knew it,” I thought to myself. “I’m just hallucinating.” “Thank you for allowing me to attend this school at such a late notice.” I looked over at Jessica and Penny, gave me a smile and mouthed ‘Don’t Worry’. I remember this look. It was the one my real mom gave me before she died. I froze.
My hands were sweating so much, I was worried the microphone would slip out if my hands. “I um…” I blanked. Everything was just lost out of my mind. The only memory that crept into me was watching my mom die. Tears were again, filling my eyes. I bit my lip. Students were whispering words like knives into other’s ears. I felt dizzy, so I ran. And now, that’s all I remember, running.
“I don't understand why I am here,” I said as I counted every reason of why I was miserable, in my head.
“You are here because you need to be.” She spoke in a voice that I was sure it sounded like a man over the phone. Her hands gripped around her chair tightly, as if she were waiting for something... or someone.
“Well that’s a vague answer,” I retorted. It wasn't too long ago when my idiotic step mother decided it would be fun to ruin my life (because that is her main hobby) and completely move my life the Olson Self Defense Academy where the kids spend an entire year being bored out of their mind in school and learn how to beat each other senseless. That would be their motto if it wasn't so long. But when my 'mom' handed me a uniform, I knew I had to say goodbye to any chance of a normal life. And with my father gone and my true mother dead, I had no say whatsoever.
“Look,” she said. “I understand why you are confused and don't understand why you are here but I swear to you, things will get better.” She sighed and looked around. “Your father has been concerned about you Samantha-”
“Sam,” I corrected.
She pressed her lips together and said “Sam,” she paused again. “Life can be scary sometimes, but you just have to put your trust in your loved ones.”
“You’re not a 'loved one' to me,” I said.“I know but your dad is,” she strictly. “I will have Penelope give you a tour and show you to your dorm.”“But-” I said“Ms. Fouler, I will tell you this once and once only, I do not except buts.”She called up Penelope over the intercom. Five minuets later a girl with dark brown hair, and wide hazel eyes walked in. Her teeth shined white a she smiled and said, “May I help you ma'am?” She glanced my way quickly, as if she were afraid to look. Then returned her focus back on the headmaster.“Yes, Ms. Davis please escort our new student... Sam... around the school and to her dorm.”“Sure.” She looked at me, with confidence this time. I followed her out of the room, and for the first time since I entered this prison of a school, I was scared.
***
The school hall was as cold as Ms. Olson's heart. The classrooms, however, were warm, with a sort of 'home' feel to it. Penelope smiled and with her thick accent said “You are just going to love it here. Everybody is just so friendly, and sweet, and you will just be so-” I interrupted her.
“I don't want to be here,” I told her simply and with desperation, in hope she would tell me a way out of here. We walked down the hallway passing kids who had their noses stuck in their books. Those who didn't however, gave me the 'you better stay out of my way or I will make the rest of your life miserable' look.
“Oh...” she said. “Why?”
That was the last question I wanted to hear right now. “Because I don't belong here.” I sighed.
“Well then...” she hesitated. “Make yourself belong here. I help you start.” She held out her hand firmly. “Hello Sam, my name is Penelope, but you can call me Penny.” She smiled, with her eyes full of hope.
***
The rest of the tour was... interesting... I'm not going to lie. Penny showed me everything, and when I say everything, I mean it. She showed me the cafeteria, auditorium, the self-defense studio (or as the kids called it just 'studio') and everything in between. Finally she showed me our dorm. She knocked silently and opened the door to which I found three beds, one of them was plain old white, which I figured was mine. The light was on, but the room felt like it was ready for sleep, just like I was. The scent of perfume was so strong; it felt like I was applying it just by standing there. The room was decorated girly with pale pink walls and green decor. It reminded me of home so much, it hurt. “Here is our room. You will be sharing it with Jessica and me.” She said. Just then a girl walked out of the bathroom. She had black hair with pink highlights at the tips to hide the split ends (smart move), shocking blue eyes, and blinding white teeth.
“You called?” she asked and giggled. Just like Penny she stuck out her hand and gave me a firm handshake. “I heard we were going to be sharing a room with someone new, and honestly I wasn't that thrilled, but you seem like an awesome girl.” I didn't know if that was a complement or an insult. But I smiled and said thanks. I turned to my bed.
“Arnold will be here any minuet with your stuff,” Penny said. “But we could go get something to eat.” I nodded. Jessica sensed my mood I guess because she said, “Hey kid, don't worry, we're here for you.” I smiled, took a deep breath, wiped the sweat of my hands ('Cause that's what I do when I get nervous), and spoke “O.K.”
***
Walking down the hall felt like walking to my doom. The sweat in my hands only got worse, as the suspense got greater. When I first, walked in the school, I was so mad, I could never have been scared, now I couldn't be more frightened. We walked into the cafeteria, and, when I say this I mean it, every pair of eyes was on me. As I walked down the aisle, my footsteps echoed.
The smell of food was comforting, so I relaxed a little. I sat down, and all the air out of my lungs. There in the table in front of me was my old childhood friend: Bradley. I froze. He looked at me with the same shock then went back to his conversation. I blinked and looked away. Jessica offered me food, but I couldn't eat. I haven't seen Brad in three years, I thought he was dead! A million thoughts raced through my mind, I went to his funeral... I saw him dead! I could feel myself trying to fight back the tears. Penny looked at me. "You alright?" I nodded and stuffed my face with food, hoping it could hide my real emotions. “Just Relax,” I told myself, you are probably just seeing things.
Ms. Olson stepped in front of the podium and taped on the microphone to get our attention. All heads turned toward her as she smiled and said, “Good evening everyone, I hope you are enjoying your meal.” A couple of kids around me smiled and nodded. “I know we rarely accept students in the middle of the semester, but a new student has arrived, please give a warm welcome to Samantha Carter!” I froze in my seat. The entire hall echoed with applause, but not the kind you want, the kind that turns your face steaming red, and you can feel your neck burning. For the first time since I was six, I wanted to cry. Jessica nudged me to stand-up and walk to the front, so I did, with my head held high like nothing was wrong, but really, I wanted to throw up.
My mouth was as dry as the surface of the sun. Jessica and Penny flashed me smiles, but all I could do was nod. I taped on the microphone and gave my famous ‘fake smile’ (I always had a gift for those) and said “Hello everyone, my name is Sam.” I glanced over at Brad, but he was gone. “I knew it,” I thought to myself. “I’m just hallucinating.” “Thank you for allowing me to attend this school at such a late notice.” I looked over at Jessica and Penny, gave me a smile and mouthed ‘Don’t Worry’. I remember this look. It was the one my real mom gave me before she died. I froze.
My hands were sweating so much, I was worried the microphone would slip out if my hands. “I um…” I blanked. Everything was just lost out of my mind. The only memory that crept into me was watching my mom die. Tears were again, filling my eyes. I bit my lip. Students were whispering words like knives into other’s ears. I felt dizzy, so I ran. And now, that’s all I remember, running.
It's very late, or is it early? I wake in a dark room. The air feels as if some large dinner party has recently evacuated the room, taking their follies to the streets to chase youth and ache with sentimental longing for old light. Light that has grown dusty and plagued with mold. Light that doesn't exist. I leave my house to discern the travel path of the fresh, disrupted atmosphere I smelled in my bedroom. It's more of a taste actually. Cheap beer in the back of one's throat or maybe hours after excited conversation over endless cups of coffee. Sand-paper mouths and expired melatonin. Crossing the front lawn, I'm seized by a foreign and somewhat terrifying thought. The grass between my toes really feels much more like the follicles on the scalp of a child. It races beneath my spot in the grass where I seem to be planted. I feel more inanimate than I've ever felt before. Life thrives beneath me at eons per millisecond and I ponder like an elderly man on a busy city block, trying to follow the trails of heat and light that entrance me, the adolescent emotion and angst of younger beings than I, except this energy beneath me expresses neither of these things. It hints to me that it even finds those emotions petty, harrowing. I feel with lucid certainty that the ancient civilization beneath my primitive limbs has experienced life times over and still is without end. They understand my perception of them perfectly and have the utmost empathy for my inevitable short-sightedness. They converse a multitude of times faster than I can blink my heavy lids and conclude that they will let me in on an infintesimal yet delightfully cherishable secret. One that shakes me to my core with doubt and commands me to elation simultaneously. Much like when a parent truly confides in their child the magnanimous love they share, allows them a glimpse of the magnitude of their soul; The dimly lit reaches of their threshold for love. The glowing force I've sensed is now dancing with anticipation, can barely contain the joy it has seemed to instantly become impregnated with. I feel the living stalks of my front lawn fold over and embrace my feet. Show me the only affection they can through the out-dated, futile looking glass that is my humanistic senses. They shift underneath me and a dull grinding sound is invited into the front of my thoughts. It sounds much like as if someone has ignited a wooden top on a rough granite surface and amplified the sound a thousand times over. It captivates me.....apprehends my heart and mind, unifies my scattered fears and hopes into a solid pillar of light pulsating in the spot where my backbone seems to have never existed. In an instant I'm erased, transcended to the sacred ecosystem of this peculiar, wise energy. The closest I can come to describing this experience is to being immersed in golden, ethereal jell-o. Images without borders dart to and fro, wholly aware of my presence and vageuly acknowledging my wonder, my undulating awe. I'm pulled deeper into this holy realm. The pressure is damn near unbearable. In fact it is unbearable, but my being hasn't a fraction of worthiness to deny it. I hear frequencies that I imagine resonate in the deepest, most private dreams of wisened elders. People who have tasted life in copious amounts. It comes to me as if through a CB radio. These formless shapes encase me, penetrate my thoughts as rain penetrates air, shifting matter out of necessity. I am shoved into a beautiful surety that is unending. A mandatory certainty of existence, of balance and perfect calculations down to the most minute factor. The universe is not a black void, or an equation or a well-oiled machine, it's a crystalline network of endless interaction that constantly exists and has never existed. Strands upon strands of vibrating force bursting with potential. Mankind is only a fractional beginning, but it is also a fractional end. This thought does not sadden me. Suprisingly, it brings me solace. Its the most these far away entities can hope to explain to me, some justified peace in a sea of oblivion, but I know in my heart of hearts that it's only the humble tip of a translucent iceberg of love, learning and multi-existence that my flawed filter of a human mind could never comprehend. Even though shards of that same iceberg are strategically and immaculately placed throughout every person's carnal capsule. Little glittering slivers in our veins that wait for the right cadence in blood flow to speed through our gradually slowing circulatory system to pierce our hearts with foreign yet familiar truths. They shatter as they fall into our blind psyche and melt in the heat of our skulls, seeping into the wrinkles of our brains, saturating us with truths. We marvel that we can grasp these truths and feel foolish for never recognizing them before. The lifespan of these shards that hail from this gargantuan, omniscient monolith of knowing is displayed before me and vanishes as rapidly as it came. I'm catapulted through every realm that unceasingly exists, over and under and through the shimmering body of constance we label as time. I find myself back on my front lawn, shivering. Tears cascade down my rigid, motionless face and I wonder why they remind me of icicles melting in the winter. I'm dragged back into a transparent humanity.
The EndingI was always terrified of death.
The first dead body I saw was when I was eight, four years after The Ending. It's actually surprising that I never saw one before that; corpses in the street were not exactly rare starting one or two years after The Ending happened. But I guess I was a sheltered child.
Mother had finally, finally agreed to bring me to a warehouse to help her collect supplies, and it was on the way there that we saw it. The dead man was young, no older than 30, and he was curled up against the side of an abandoned apartment building. You might have thought he was sleeping, but the steadily spreading pool of red liquid that he was lying in said firmly otherwise.
Mother dragged me to her other side as soon as she saw the guy, quickening her pace, but I had already seen the blood, and the look on the dead man's face. I knew enough about death to conclude that he was dead, and it was terrifying to me. I let Mother pull me along, protecting me from the sight with her own self, but his desperate, open eyes and twisted grimace haunted my mind for the two months before I saw my next corpse. Since that day six years ago, I've seen countless dead bodies, some bloodied and broken, some with their eyes shut and their arms crossed over their chests because someone cared enough to honor them, and some with the exact same expression that was on that man's face. It's horrible to look at them, to look at their empty eyes and think about their empty heads with no more consciousness inside them. I'm terrified of them and terrified of not having a consciousness, and it hurts me every time I see a life cut short like that. But I've forced myself into a state of uncaring, the kind of mindset you need in order to survive in this world.
Now, it's been a decade since The Ending. Some people are still in shock, still refusing to believe that the happy, healthy world they once knew is gone forever. It drives them insane. My father's best friend starved himself to death while grieving for those days long past. I saw him huddled in the corner with his arms wrapped around himself, rocking forward and back with his eyes staring off into a distance that I couldn't see.
I'm lucky enough to only have been a toddler back then. I don't remember much about the world before, so I don't have anything to miss about it. Now, I'm fourteen years old. I've seen what there is to see, and I know what I need to know. The past doesn't interest me, nor does the future, further than the fact that I must live to see tomorrow. Because if I don't live to see tomorrow, I'll be dead, and that's what I fear most in the world.
It's getting dark, too dark for my liking. But I can't go home, not yet, because I haven't found anything for dinner. These days, it takes nearly all of my time just to find enough food to get by. I'm not a picky eater; I can't be if I want to survive. I've consumed mice, rats, small birds, and rotten vegetables from the garbage, to name a few things. As the years have gone by, edible material has gotten more and more rare, and my standards have grown lower and lower. One day soon, there will be no more food in the world, and we'll all starve unless we can get our shit together, which isn't happening. I prefer not to think about that day.
But maybe it's today, because I've been in the streets since daybreak and the pickings are less than slim. Now the sun is nearly set. I'm in a back alleyway full of shadows, hoping to find a rat or two for my meal. Rats are one species that's benefited from The Ending, thanks to all the corpses laying around. There are even people who've taken a lesson from the rats and started eating the bodies. I'm not at that point yet. I'd like to believe I never will be. But I will do what it takes to survive.
Father and Mother are dead, killed by Rogues, the bands of renegades that roam the streets at night, killing anyone whom they encounter. I saw my parents' bodies, too. I have no one anymore to protect me from things a young teen girl should be protected from. I like to think that I don't need anyone to protect me, but that's a lie. I think I'm going crazy, not the rocking and staring kind of crazy, but a dangerous, seething sort of insanity that's been brought up from the depths of me by seeing too many things I should have been protected from. It's a lonely crazy, too, because I am all alone.
No rats. No nothing. I think I'm going to starve. I turn a corner. nearly planting my foot through a rotting stomach. I press my lips together and skirt around the body. It's obviously been here for a long while. I don't let myself look at the face.
Up ahead of me, a light flashes. I jump back around the corner I just turned. My heart rate quickens. A smacking of footsteps starts in the distance. They're coming closer to me, closer, and as they grow louder I also begin to hear a voice. It's a girl's voice, young, maybe not so much older than me, although I can't tell. She's calling for help, no, gasping for help, wait, pleading desperately for help with every smack of a step that she takes. My breath catches in my throat. There are footsteps pursuing her, more than one set. A voice shouts something harsh, and the fleeing girl whimpers. She stops just around the corner from me and fights for her breath. I press myself back, far back, hiding in the shadows.
BANG! A gunshot in the distance. Only Rogues have guns nowadays. The girl yelps, even though she wasn't hit. She is stupid. I want to grab her and drag her into the shadows with me, clamping my hand over her mouth so she can't give away where we are. But the Rogues are too close, getting closer by the second. Then there's a second BANG, a shrill scream of pain, and now there's another body beside the rotting one in the road.
Before she was murdered, Mother used to have these gatherings at our house every once in a while. Anyone was welcome. The regulars mostly included people from our neighborhood - those who weren't dead, anyway. Mother called her gatherings Lamenting Parties, and that's exactly what they were: A group of adults getting together to lament about the "Old Days". They told stories of before the war and the stock market crash and the mass assassinations and the general unraveling of everything that held our civilization together. They usually ended in everyone sobbing in each other's arms. I hated those parties. Now I miss them with every speck of my being.
The pursuing footsteps have stopped, and they've been replaced by two voices just around the corner. The voices are gruff and male and terrifying.
"Turn her over."
"Yessir."
"Is she dead?"
"Yeah."
"Check the pockets."
"Nothing."
"Darn it."
There's a thump, maybe someone kicking the wall.
"No one has anything these days."
I can't help it. A gulp escapes my throat. Maybe it's the craziness that's been boiling under my skin all these years. Maybe it wasn't seething crazy after all. Maybe it was just plain crazy.
"What was that?"
"Around the corner."
"It's another one."
There are two men staring at me now. The shadows aren't hiding me any more. Their faces are scarred and ugly and in their eyes I can see all of the trauma that this world has slammed onto our race. They are so... human. So flawed, so sad, so desperate. I almost pity them, except for the fact that one of the men has a gun pointed at my head.
And suddenly I'm blubbering, just as terrified as that girl was a few moments ago, that girl who is just one more life extinguished, one more story shot out of existence. Please, no, please, don't, help me, I'll do anything, anything you want, just don't don't don't don't don't...
I want to live. I want to live. I want to live.
But the men are too far gone to understand that.
BANG
And that's all I know.
OK THIS IS ONLY CHAPTER 1 OF A STORY IM WRITING:A girl with brown curly hair and blue eyes sat on her bed, staring at the middle of her bedroom ground. Her name was Maria. She was waiting for her package to flame.
3...2...1
In the middle of her room, there was an explosion. In the centre of the explosion was a package. She particularly hated that type of teleportation but she had guessed her
She ripped opened and found the letter she had been waiting for.
Dear Maria,
I'm sorry the letter came late because as always, I was fighting those Ikalodis when...
CONTINUATION:Maria absolutely hated it when he put those boring fight details into the letter to sound heroic. She looked down to where his boring adventure of trying to get another Pyatiad had ended.
Anyways, the Gametia is at 4:30 am as always. Today the rimisecurt is the bracelet below.
Maria looked at the beautiful diamond bracelet and continued reading.
Pass on the bracelet to the other Cadesperes near you.
Maria scrunched up the letter and began to freshen up. She packed her hair into a ponytail and put on her plain orange t-shirt with a black jacket on top and jeans.
She walked to the
How long do we have left coz for me its already 10:00 but Im in a different time zone to you
The first thing I feel when I wake up is my head. It's pounding, like I've just slammed it against the wall. My back hurts, too. I open my eyes, and meet the glance of fourteen other eyes. MEN eyes.
"Eh-my-what-the?!" I scream, scrambling out of the bed, and landing on the floor in the process. They
all snicker, and I blush. "Who are you?" I ask, demanding an answer. Then I realize that they're pretty short. Really short, in fact, probably no bigger than my four-year-old brother, Brody. By this point, no one has spoken.
"Who are you?" I ask again, more curious. The oldest looking one steps forward. He's the only one with white hair. He speaks the names, pointing to each guy accordingly.
"Bossy, Noisy, Crudey, Loudy, Sloppy, me, Cleany, and Gerald-David McFenny."
I blink. Then it clicks. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're the seven dwarfs!" I cry. They look really offended.
"Oh, sorry. I'm Mayley Brightson." I hold out my hand, but no one shakes it.
"Listen, girl." one -I think Sloppy? - says gruffly. "We saved your tiny little princess butt out in the dark forest out there, and you can't even thank us?"
"Yeah! All you do is call us-" Crudey sniffs. "Dwarfs?!"
Uh-oh.
"I am so sorry! You see, I'm not a princess." I say delicately. "I think you've confused me for Snow White."
This earns me a round of glares. One, (I stopped trying to remember their names.) shouts, "The story Master always does stuff for a reason!"
"Yeah!" they all yell, except for Gerald-David McFenny. He says, "I vote her OUT!"
And so that was when I found myself standing alone in the dark woods. Great, I think, I'm a billion miles past nowhere, and just south of dreamland. How am I supposed to get home now? I walk for about an hour in the "dark forest." Honestly, it's not dark or scary. So not impressive.
Suddenly, a man pops out of nowhere. I scream. He looks at me awkwardly.
"You, er, 'aven't seen a fair maiden 'ere, 'ave you?" he asks.
"Nope, sorry." I say bitterly.
"Ack!" he cries. "I must return to my queen, for the 'our grows late!"
I nod politely, and continue on. Before long, I reach a small town in the woods. Everyone is chattering. I ask a woman what the news is, and she says, "Why, dearie, aren't you dressed strange! But here's the news. The Queen Mirabelle has her own stepdaughter held captive. She killed her huntsman, and then found her stepdaughter, and is hiding her in the prison!" she shrieks. I gasp. "Her mirror told her there was another who was fairer than Snow White. She has hair as red as flames, and eyes as green as grass."
Oh, crap. That's me! That's totally me!
I don't trust these gossipy people enough to stay the night, so I leave.
I walk away from the village with two more things to add on my list of sucky things.
A very evil woman is most likely trying to hunt me down, and I totally just screwed up “Snow White.”
This is turning out to be my worst day yet.
"Eh-my-what-the?!" I scream, scrambling out of the bed, and landing on the floor in the process. They
all snicker, and I blush. "Who are you?" I ask, demanding an answer. Then I realize that they're pretty short. Really short, in fact, probably no bigger than my four-year-old brother, Brody. By this point, no one has spoken.
"Who are you?" I ask again, more curious. The oldest looking one steps forward. He's the only one with white hair. He speaks the names, pointing to each guy accordingly.
"Bossy, Noisy, Crudey, Loudy, Sloppy, me, Cleany, and Gerald-David McFenny."
I blink. Then it clicks. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You're the seven dwarfs!" I cry. They look really offended.
"Oh, sorry. I'm Mayley Brightson." I hold out my hand, but no one shakes it.
"Listen, girl." one -I think Sloppy? - says gruffly. "We saved your tiny little princess butt out in the dark forest out there, and you can't even thank us?"
"Yeah! All you do is call us-" Crudey sniffs. "Dwarfs?!"
Uh-oh.
"I am so sorry! You see, I'm not a princess." I say delicately. "I think you've confused me for Snow White."
This earns me a round of glares. One, (I stopped trying to remember their names.) shouts, "The story Master always does stuff for a reason!"
"Yeah!" they all yell, except for Gerald-David McFenny. He says, "I vote her OUT!"
And so that was when I found myself standing alone in the dark woods. Great, I think, I'm a billion miles past nowhere, and just south of dreamland. How am I supposed to get home now? I walk for about an hour in the "dark forest." Honestly, it's not dark or scary. So not impressive.
Suddenly, a man pops out of nowhere. I scream. He looks at me awkwardly.
"You, er, 'aven't seen a fair maiden 'ere, 'ave you?" he asks.
"Nope, sorry." I say bitterly.
"Ack!" he cries. "I must return to my queen, for the 'our grows late!"
I nod politely, and continue on. Before long, I reach a small town in the woods. Everyone is chattering. I ask a woman what the news is, and she says, "Why, dearie, aren't you dressed strange! But here's the news. The Queen Mirabelle has her own stepdaughter held captive. She killed her huntsman, and then found her stepdaughter, and is hiding her in the prison!" she shrieks. I gasp. "Her mirror told her there was another who was fairer than Snow White. She has hair as red as flames, and eyes as green as grass."
Oh, crap. That's me! That's totally me!
I don't trust these gossipy people enough to stay the night, so I leave.
I walk away from the village with two more things to add on my list of sucky things.
A very evil woman is most likely trying to hunt me down, and I totally just screwed up “Snow White.”
This is turning out to be my worst day yet.
Meiyu: I'm in another time zone, too. Here it's 3:20. So are you posting the poll at your 6:00?
NOOOOOO I'M LIKE A HALF HOUR TOO LATE I JUST LIKE JOINED THIS GROUP YESTERDAY
CAN YOU MAKE ANOTHER ONE SO I COULD ENTER?
CAN YOU MAKE ANOTHER ONE SO I COULD ENTER?
Aw thank you that would be awesome!
Haha ok but my story is too long for one comment
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Meagan and Jemiah raced outside.
"No, Jemiah! You cheated!" Meagan shouted.
"No I didn't, Meagan! What's your brain filled with, bubbles?" Jemiah asked, pushing Meagan to the ground.
"Ooh, Jemiah Harrison, just you wait until I get at you! You'll be sorry that you'd ever--"
"Jemiah," said a stern voice from behind them. Meagan and Jemiah shared a glance and slowly turned around to face their father.
"Good afternoon, sir," Meagan offered when she saw the tension between Jemiah and her father. He ignored her.
"Jemiah. I thought I made myself quite clear," growled Mr. Harrison. "Were you not supposed to wash the windows before you went out to play?" Jemiah looked at his feet and muttered something unintelligible.
"Speak up, boy!" shouted Mr. Harrison.
"I said, I did finish cleaning the windows."
Mr. Harrison grabbed Jemiah by the ear and dragged him so close to the window that his breath fogged it up.
"Father, it wasn't his…" started Meagan.
"Quiet, Meagan."
"Do you expect me to believe that these windows are clean? Do you think I'm that stupid?" asked Mr. Harrison.
"No, Father," mumbled Jemiah.
"I said speak UP!" screeched Mr. Harrison, hitting Jemiah's forehead against the glass.
"Jemiah!" screamed Meagan. Mr. Harrison shoved Jemiah and he hit the car on the side of his head.
"You've ruined my car, boy!" shrieked Mr. Harrison. He began to walk away but turned around.
"And finish washing those windows."