Write a Story discussion

here's mine:
The Rebels: Erin
By Cici Clawson

Prologue: 3001-3012 A.D.
It was a normal day for Americans on the day this mess started, March eighth, 3001. Mandi Cross was at home cleaning house and organizing the room for the baby girl on the way; James Cross was at the office filling out paper work. At exactly 3:12pm on this perfectly normal day a group known as the Armstrongs rose up and attacked. By Christmas that year the Armstrongs had taken over the area spanning from the Rocky Mountains to the eastern edge of Missouri, North to the top of Nebraska and South to the pan handle of Oklahoma. The Crosses were residents of Lansing, Michigan at the time. In 3003, on August twenty-fifth Erin Cross was born in the same place her family had lived since the beginning of the Armstrongs. By then the Armstrongs had control over the entire Central Time zone and the eastern side of the Mountain Time zone. By Halloween of the year 3012 the entire US was under the control of the Armstrongs. Walls were built and guarded to keep former Americans in and everyone else out. Freedom was at all costs prohibited. The constitution had been shredded and the flag replaced by one that was all black with the words “Rebel not against those who cannot be beat” written in red banning the top and the bottom and a red castle in the center. The old ways of America were forgotten and people learned to fear the Armstrongs, the new rulers of the new Strong Nation.
Chapter 1: 3018 A.D.
My name is Erin Rae Cross. I’m fifteen and I’m a bone-deep rebel. Before I start I need to say one thing. Rebels aren’t always the bad guys. If you think that we are, then stop reading and know nothing about your future. Like I care if you don’t know about all you have until the Armstrongs come and take it all away. That’s your problem, not mine. Oh, so you want to know, eh? Fine. Here’s the story of triumph, trial, truth, me, your future, freedom, and the real America.


I had a bottle of spray paint in one hand and the front wall of Armstrong Uniform Required High School for Girls in front of me. The black of night surrounded me from the tips of my jet black hair with a few dark read highlights to the shoes of my all black outfit. My outfit consisted of a black t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans with a few rips here and there, and some black sneakers. I had in mind what I wanted the front to look like by the time school came around.
I took the red and started on a red-hot flame. Then I put an orange highlight around the edge. Then, the final bit, in the fire was the Armstrong flag going up in smoke with the American flag valiantly waving above the smoke, triumphantly preaching a freedom long gone. There, I thought, Let’s see how they like that. I ran the one mile to my house. Every house now looks the same. Light gray with white trim and gold door knobs, gold door bells with mother of pearl buttons, and gold key holes.
I went inside and checked the time. 1:30 am. Not bad. Thirty minutes is pretty good for a full size mural. I went up to my bedroom. It was the only un-uniform thing for a million miles. I have a black iron bed with a black comforter with a deep red, bloody, heart on it. There’s a poster of an American flag waving in the night with the word “Indivisible” in dark red at the top on my wall, a small almost-walk-in closet, black painted walls, and dark red and black carpet. I changed my clothes so I was wearing my school uniform. It consisted of a white cami, a medium gray blouse with white pearl buttons on the wrist, a matching skirt, and black flats. I hate uniforms! They take away the freedom of personality, but it’s not surprising that the Armstrongs have stolen that from us. They’ve taken every freedom from personality to speech to free will. They can’t take free will from us unless we let them. And I won’t. I tell myself.
I bet you want to know a little about my parents. Well, they’re, in a word, idiots. They remember the United States of America. They know how amazing it was. They were there before the Armstrongs, and yet, they hide in the shadows, doing whatever the Armstrongs tell them. They know what the Armstrongs stole better than I do but who’s the one fighting to get it back? Me. The one born into this mess of walls and enslaved citizens. When I try to tell them that they should fight for what they remember about the US they say, “Read the flag, Erin. ‘Rebel not against those who cannot be beat.’”
I get it. You want what they look like too. Well my mom has curly brown hair, light tan skin, piercing deep brown eyes, a round but stern face, she’s slightly overweight, and always blends into your average Strong Nation crowd. My dad is thin, has straight jet black hair, a stern, square face, light tan skin, sorta emanates the “business as usual” thing, and is tall, like six foot five tall. There. I described my gutless parents.
I decided to get some sleep so my uniform would wrinkle. I slowly sank into sleep like a feather, off an angel’s wing, falling from heaven to a peaceful meadow where the sun always shines.


I dreamed I was running across a green prairie, but it emanated danger. I ran like my life depended on it. I heard gunshot and pounding steps. I ducked but kept running. I pumped my legs harder. I risked a glance over my shoulder to see the Armstrong uniformed troops chasing me. They wore a dark navy blue security guard looking uniform and they carried what looked like machine guns but I knew better. Those guns shot what was basically an atomic bomb but focused only on the target they hit rather than a whole city. (Erin’s Note: This technology will be developed around the year 2978.) I ran faster, zigzagging across the dark plains. The clouds blocked out the sun. I ran toward…the smells of cinnamon toast?
I woke up. Yep. Definitely cinnamon toast. I went downstairs to get some breakfast. I’d eat slowly so I’d be on time but not the first one there. If I was the first one there everyone would know I had painted the mural. Well, technically graffiti, but laws made by the Armstrongs don’t deserve to be followed. “Morning,” I plopped down at my seat and started munching on some cinnamon toast.
“Good morning, honey,” my mom put some orange juice in my cup on the table.
My dad came in. He sat down, grabbed today’s newspaper, started reading, and took a sip of Armstrong uniform coffee. (Erin’s Note: In this time period there’s only one kind and brand of everything. In the case its Armstrong brand black coffee.) I glanced at the front page and saw the headline: Rumors of the Rebels Return. “Hey, Pops, what’s that ‘bout?”
“Oh, just some cheesy story. Probably didn’t happen. You can read it after school.” He glanced at it and went back to what he was reading. I decided I’d look at it.
I finished my breakfast, put my plate in the sink, told my parents good-bye and headed off to school. As I walked to school something about it kept nagging at me. When I got to school I’d looked it up. (Erin’s Note: In the year 3000, the computerized desk was invented so online access, text books, and assignments could be completed via the touch screen desk. Teachers could also lock certain privileges for discipline or tests.)
I walked into the schoolyard and smiled. A huge crowd had gathered and was gawking at the front entrance. My pretty lil’ piece of art. “OMG!” “Can you believe this?!” “Omigosh! I can’t believe this!” “Who would do this?!” “Look at that!” Everyone was saying something about it. I walked up and looked at it. One of my few friends, Lyn, walked up and asked, “Don’t you care?! Someone graffitied a picture of the Armstrong flag burning!”
“Hey you know my stance on it,” I replied, “I think the Armstrongs suck and that we should fight for what had. Whoever had the guts to put this up had the right idea.”
Lyn shook her head, “Erin, life sucks, I agree, but these are the Armstrongs we’re talking about; just this could be the death of someone! They’re cruel and heartless. Erin, they can’t be beat. What’s the point in fighting against something if you’re just going to die because of it and if you won’t succeed?”
“The fact that cruel and heartless and would kill for something as small as this is the reason to fight! The point of fighting for something isn’t the fact you probably won’t succeed or will die in the process is that it matters, it effects more than you. It’s the fact that who you are depends on what you fight for, what you fight against, and what you stay out of.” I snapped.
“Ya, then who I am is alive.” Lyn turned toward the approaching minor Armstrongs, the equivalent of your police. I clenched my fists. I cover my tracks; no one ever knows it’s me. I had no worries that they’d be stumped on who did it.

cool

thx
Geneva wrote: "cool"

where it says read at beg. is that suppose to be red. :O OOOOO

hm. (confused)
Geneva wrote: "where it says read at beg. is that suppose to be red. :O OOOOO"

idea! from! music! :D

what??? sounds good but im lost
Geneva wrote: "idea! from! music! :D"

Geneva wrote: "idea! from! music! :D"

Yeahhhhhh? I'm lost, too!!

Cici, I'm wondering if at "...with a few dark read highlights..." you meant "...with a few dark RED highlights..."?

Could you explain Geneva???

But this is a pretty AWESOME story so far!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

thx wait who was that 4
Sariah wrote: "But this is a pretty AWESOME story so far!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

YOU, of course!!! :)

thx then :D
Sariah wrote: "YOU, of course!!! :)"

:D

so wats ur pic of

Who, me? I'm the only one in this group online (or at least participating in this group) right now, I think.

idea is sea serpent!!

ya wats ur picture of the brown hired chic
Sariah wrote: "Who, me? I'm the only one in this group online (or at least participating in this group) right now, I think."

wat??? (majorly puzzled and lost)
Geneva wrote: "idea is sea serpent!!"

well, sea serpent wakes up after thousands of years, all lost and confused cuz of humans. makes friends with girl, girl betrays the serpent to a 'zoo'. later another girl saves the sea serpent and yadda

cool write it and post it :D

Cici wrote: "ya wats ur picture of the brown hired chic
Sariah wrote: "Who, me? I'm the only one in this group online (or at least participating in this group) right now, I think.""

Oh, yeah!! That's, oh, what's her name, Belle- you know, one of those Disney princesses. I used (USED) to love her when I was little because she loves to read and all that. Didn't know what to use as my profile picture (I WANTED A PIC!!!) so I chose that one.

Geneva wrote: "well, sea serpent wakes up after thousands of years, all lost and confused cuz of humans. makes friends with girl, girl betrays the serpent to a 'zoo'. later another girl saves the sea serpent and ..."

Yadda yadda yadda… hehehehe… SOUNDS GOOD! WRITE IT!!

What I like about this story is that (for some weird reason) it reminds me of the Hunger Games, which I love. But it's not like copying the Hunger Games or anything, so that's A-okay. Nice description, grabbers at beginnings, captivating, love the spunky, independent, rebellious character, etc… It's good!! :)

Thanks! I sorta got the idea from the hunger games but instead of one rebel leader leading everyone into battle I thought I could make a series where a group of five teens conquer all. But they'll have some help along the way. (ps i havent even finished ch 1)
Sariah wrote: "What I like about this story is that (for some weird reason) it reminds me of the Hunger Games, which I love. But it's not like copying the Hunger Games or anything, so that's A-okay. Nice descript..."

cool
Sariah wrote: "Cici wrote: "ya wats ur picture of the brown hired chic
Sariah wrote: "Who, me? I'm the only one in this group online (or at least participating in this group) right now, I think.""

Oh, yeah!! Tha..."

reminds me of witch and wizard

ya its similar to that too

I'm I the only one who is going to post one of my stories? lol ;)

Yeah, I will, I promise, I've just kinda kept mine totally secret for the past, oh, twenty gazillion months (yes, I'm a HUGE fan of hyperboles and no, "twenty gazillion months" does NOT mean twenty months). Plus it's kinda maybe sorta girly or whatever (okay, I admit, it's about Fey and Faeries and that kind of stuff: but I still like that stuff :P), but I've tried to kinda take out some of the girly element in it. Hey, at least it has magic in it, right???

Hey, you guys should TOTALLY, like, make each of us our very own folder for our stories!!! We could start a new topic for each of our stories and make a topic for each of those stories no one would be allowed to comment on. So, like, you'd go to the group home page and there would be (I'm just gonna use me as an example) a folder that said "Sariah's Stories". Then you'd click on it and there would be a topic that was called "Mira [version you're allowed to comment on]" and one that was"Mira [version you're NOT allowed to comment on]". That would be so cool!!! Could we do that, peoples, or is it a dumb idea???

Hey girly isnt bad it just mean guys probably wont read it all my main characters are girls ur a girl let it show when you write! :D
Sariah wrote: "Yeah, I will, I promise, I've just kinda kept mine totally secret for the past, oh, twenty gazillion months (yes, I'm a HUGE fan of hyperboles and no, "twenty gazillion months" does NOT mean twenty..."

No It makes sense and every so often we'd update the stories so everyone one could read it! i'm guessing we should just change this one to mine lol :)
Sariah wrote: "Hey, you guys should TOTALLY, like, make each of us our very own folder for our stories!!! We could start a new topic for each of our stories and make a ropic for each of those stories no one would..."

Thank you for EVERYTHING, Cici!!! For your wise words of advice on girliness and for using my idea!!! Thanks a lot!! You make me happy. :)

Thx! Glad 2 help!
Sariah wrote: "Thank you for EVERYTHING, Cici!!! For your wise words of advice on girliness and for using my idea!!! Thanks a lot!! You make me happy. :)"

Ok. I hav 2 post my big news. I'm moving 2 Saudi Arabia in either l8 june or early july.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ya ikr?! its crazy but on the bright side ill liv on this campus where i dont hav 2 wear the long head dress thing but if i leave campus 4 like church or something then i hav 2 wear it but they hav evrything from fast food 2 shopping 2 a mini disney world

You asked for it, unfortunately… constructive criticism.


HARDLY ANYTHING NEEDS CHANGED!!!! Maybe, possibly, just for stuff like "Then I put an orange highlight around the edge" you could change it to, like, "Then I fiercely sprayed a bright orange* highlight** around the edge" just to make it a little more descriptive. Otherwise, it's great! I love it!



*[a metaphor could work here] **[Is highlight the right word, or border?? You decide!!!]

i like more descriptive but take the characters personality into consideration does she seem like the type to put in "fiercely" as a word to describe how shes painting? but maybe another descriptor like "then i added an inflammatory touch, a bright orange highlight to bring out the flames of rebellion" or something u think that would work?

Sariah wrote: "You asked for it, unfortunately… constructive criticism.


HARDLY ANYTHING NEEDS CHANGED!!!! Maybe, possibly, just for stuff like "Then I put an orange highlight around the edge" you could change i..."

maybe. maybe not

cum on i need help help me!!!

u leap from topic to topic without warning. like with the uniform thing. ur talking about wat it looks like and suddenly, bam! ur talking about how u hate them

well how should make less of a leap just describe the hate and the look @ the same time?

after description, put what i hated most about it was how it made you look like everyone else, taking your freedom to choose who you were. or something like that

ok ill fix that when i post my next bit. :)

Cici wrote: "i like more descriptive but take the characters personality into consideration does she seem like the type to put in "fiercely" as a word to describe how shes painting? but maybe another descriptor..."

True, about the character narration, but she IS 15--don't ya think FIFTEEN-year-olds might use words like fierce? I know TONS of teenagers do! And she's not merely painting--she's angry, she's rebellious, and she's graffiting AND spray-painting! So maybe she could be fierce… But description makes for great writing, so you do need lots and lots of it! But anyway, I like your compromise. Anyway, it's STILL great!!!

Mine's still being edited, so I KNOW it's not great--I KNOW! I've only read it, like, eight times, and that's not NEARLY enough for great writing!

hey ur ur own worst critic but u hav2 except the fact that its not tht bad or all our comments would be flatout insulting or VERY vague. and she might be the type to say "fierce" but not to describe graffiti its too...average for her remember shes a rebel this is average for her

Cici wrote: "hey ur ur own worst critic but u hav2 except the fact that its not tht bad or all our comments would be flatout insulting or VERY vague. and she might be the type to say "fierce" but not to descri..."

Ahh, true. You're good!! :) This story is just so great, I LOVE it!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Get it published on day or face my wrath!