It’s been years…

No, really, it has! So… sorry about that. Blogging is something someone like me would enjoy… or so one would think. But then, being a contradictory, crazy, insane highschooler tends to get in the way of doing the expected.

Anyways, some things about me from the past two years, lol.

I got a trillion fish tanks. Like, seriously– I didn’t even have goldfish last time I wrote on here! Now I’ve gone through a lot. Kappa, Karpa, Misheal, Eleazar, Frazier, Martin, Big Blue, Pirate– all deceased. And, of course, Marley, Clara, Monet and Biggs who are all very much alive.

Not that my life revolves around fish or anything. I also have been working a lot– three jobs in the past two years, bebe– and got my license. I’ve done a lot of reading and some hard core writing.

Nothing special though. I mean, it’s not like I finished my first and only full novel ever…

OH WAIT, YES I DID!!

Heh.

But since that’s not what this blog is for, I’ll do a little writing prompt for your reading pleasure.

 

Here’s the prompt:

THE ROOM

“One day as you were cleaning you noticed air being sucked towards the base of wall near the cupboard. Perplexed you went closer to investigate. The air was going in, slightly yet in. You hold your breath and gingerly peel away at the wallpaper until a huge wrought iron door stands before you. Where does it lead? Did you imagine this? What happens next?”

(as always, prompt can be found here: link)

 

Just another day. Just another boring, ordinary, sucky day stuck at home. Like the nice little house wife of a revolutionary doctor that I was, I decided to do pretty much the only thing available to me– clean.

Ah, yes, cleaning. The man of the house was away, and the wife is reduced to rags as she tirelessly scrubbed the floors so he could just track the muck back in when he arrived later that evening.

Yeah, I’m not much of a cleaner. But, I did need to clean out some cobwebs in the attic before the air become so absolutely full of spiders that we had to cede the space to them. Once you cede the attic to spiders, they’ll get greedy and want the entire house. We don’t want that, now do we?

So armed with rubber gloves and a Dust Devil, I tromped up the stairs to beat back the evils of arachnids from the door and make way for human habitation in the foreign land of Up.

It really wasn’t too bad… when you squinted so much that your eyes were closed, and all you could see were the dark smudges that made up your lashes and eyelids. As soon as they were open, however, and your pupils pulled in light, contracting inside shining green iris’, there is no hiding the fact that the attic has been completely vanquished. Thick, heavy mobs of web criss crossed the doorway, and the far window– the only source of light in the murky room– was completely mottled gray with the offensive matter. The floor was covered in a quarter inch of dust and dead bugs, making the entire matter worse, and the few paltry boxes left behind by the home’s previous owners in the far corner were completely shrouded in mess, so thick it looked like fur.

I bet the previous owners kept the spiders at bay.

“This is so a man’s job,” I growled under my breath, glad for the precaution I’d taken in tying up my thick hair into a tight bun before I’d entered the wretched space. The tighter it was, the less likely a spider would nestle inside and make a home…

I shuddered miserably, flicking on the vacuum and getting to work. The sooner I started, the sooner I finished– and the sooner I finished, the sooner I could remind Bo that he was supposed to be responsible for cleaning the attic.

It took a good three and a half hours to fully dust out the old room. No more cobwebs, no more dust, and the boxes looked like, well, boxes. As they should!

“That was… ” I smirked, brushing my hair from my face with a dusty, gloved hand. “Satisfying.”

I crossed the room to the window, leaning against the sill. Out in the street below, I could see Bo’s car pulling in. He had friends inside– Sam, Mav, Gat and Echo. The most annoying of his comrades, he would stay up all night conversing with them in hushed tones about the best way to take down our tormentors, both ACE and their funder, Robotnik. And of course, the entire time I’d be hushed and ignored and swept aside as they insisted they didn’t want to hurt my delicate feelings. Cause, you know, the feelings of an assassin are very fragile. Not that I didn’t understand; I did, really. They worried I’d freak out and warn my old associates of what they were planning. But I’d never do that.

Trust was something that we clearly lacked in our marriage.

Deciding to leave him be, I knelt beside the window to get a better look at the wallpaper in the grand room. Without the dust, it was actually quite nice. Gold crowning and an innate, hand carved door, with a matching windowsill all adorned the room, contrasting pleasingly with the dark mauve of the walls. Unfortunately, there were places that the wallpaper was peeling, and the crowning was chipped in color. Fixable, of course, but I had neither the time nor the inclination to do such a thing.

There was a particularly irritating chip in the molding behind me, however, and when it was clear that it wouldn’t be ignored, I turned to deal with it instantly. What I saw astonished me.

Through the little hole created by the chipped molding, there was what appeared to be an iron bar. Why on Mobius would there be such a thing behind a wall?

Although I realistically knew my husband would kill me if he saw that I tore out the wall, I had to know, so I got to it. I chipped away at the molding, tearing with my claws and prying with strong, genetically enhanced fingers.

It took a good half hour’s work to reveal a large iron door, like one you’d find on a medieval prison. Except, of course, that medieval prisons were things of Earth, and this was not Earth.

“Bo?” I called, finally deciding that this mystery was more than I could handle alone. “Come up here!”

“In a minute!” he yelled back.

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled, touching one of the iron bars tentatively. There was a moment of disorientation, and then my mind seemed to click back into place… except this was not the place I’d been in mere moments before.

A vast meadow of poppies and rudbeckia spread before me endlessly, all bathed in the warm glow of a friendly sun. Fawns skipped merrily, bluebirds flit above and songbirds perched on trees sang their merry little tunes. It was as though I’d passed out and woken in an earthen Disney movie!

“What’s up, Babe?”

I blinked slowly, disorientated by the strangeness of his voice in this place. And yet when I turned around, I could see our attic, and he standing in it with a borderline irritated expression on his face.

“W-what?” I managed weakly.

“You called me, Tany,” he reminded me, surveying the carnage of our wall. “What happened?”

“Look at this!” I cried, reaching out to grab his hand.

“The door? What about it? Babe, it’s always been there.”

I stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “B-but… I never saw it! And all this!” I gestured in dismay at the destroyed wall. “That isn’t my imagination!”

“No, it was a rather expensive length of sheetrock,” he murmured, sighing as he sank down next to me. “Babe, it’s our portal to Earth. There are times that certain… assignments… require foreign artifacts, and so…” he gestured to the door. “We just haven’t used it in awhile.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked petulantly, knowing even as I said it how childish it sounded.

He laughed, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. “I know how much you’ve always loved Earth. If I’d told you, I’d never get to see you!” I glowered at him. “Plus,” he added more seriously, “I couldn’t risk you knowing it, just in case. If you were tortured…”

“My sisters in blood don’t have the stomach to torture me, and no one else at ACE has the ability to cause me pain,” I murmured. Sighing heavily, I added, “but I suppose I see your point. I need to stay here and ‘be a good wife.'”

“No, babe, you need to stay here and take care of Zoey. Remember her? Five years old, about yay high?” He gestured to about 3’ off the ground. “Where is she anyway?”

“Marge has her.”

“Fine. Look, I promise I’ll take you to Earth someday. Okay?”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“Okay, deal.” He chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate, before placing a kiss to my forehead and drawing us both to our feet.

“Now come on, the guys are here. We were hoping for true entertainment that only you can provide.” He lifted his brows suggestively and I laughed.

“Scrabble it is!”

~End

 

Well that was odd. Whatever, I haven’t written anything about them in so long…

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Summer

Hey, so, guess what? This is the last normal day of school before summer. Next week is finals week, and then I’m in the clear! Monday the 16th I will be starting my first job. I am very excited for this, as it will be the means that allow me to take drivers ed and get a license. So, I am very excited.

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Wonder

The origin of life, of love, of inspiration, what is it? This I ask myself as I lay out under the stars, staring into the depths of their perfection. In this day and age, we can examine the stars through our iPatches, enhancing and enlarging their images until the stars are displayed on the Patches at a molecular level. Yet our greatest scientists have still been unable to understand where such a complex molecular pattern could have appeared from. Is it possible, they wonder, that they came about by chance? Such an amazing thing…

With the help of our latest technology we’ve completely debunked the evolution theory and, aside from some dogged old style scientists, it is generally agreed that life must have been somehow created. So now, the question is- by whom?

“Rache! Entrez! Il est temps de dîner!” Mom glowered at me from the doorway. “Vous avez trouvé tout mouillé!”

“Je viens!” I sighed and stood up, still watching the sky. Just as I was preparing to go in I saw it, in my peripheral- a shooting star. I smiled and closed my eyes, making a quick wish- let us all continue to live in this state of wonder.

“Bonjour, Rache!” Quinn greeted me as I stepped inside. I regarded him coldly and shook my head.
“Salut, Quinn.” He grinned. Quinn is my older sister’s sleazy boyfriend. I can’t count the times he has cheated on my sister and she has gone back to him. I can only remember the times he tried to cheat with me. Despite his terrible nature, he is so good looking… Only once, though. Only once did I slip up… But, once is definitely enough, as my sister’s cold glare reminds me every time she stays over for dinner.

“Rache! Quinn! Léa! Venir à la table! La pizza est à faire froid!” Mom yelled from the kitchen. Léa stood up from her seat, glaring at me as she took her boyfriend’s hand and sauntered into the kitchen towards mom, draped over his arm. I rolled my eyes. Idiot.

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Bend and not Break

You know the song
By Dashboard Confessionals.
Bend and not Break.
I wonder what it’s like
To take hit
After hit
And not shatter into
A billion pieces.
Or to bend
Compromise yourself and
Your standards
For someone else.
I do not bend.
I am not
Flexible.
I break.
I shatter,
Like a thin glass vial
Dropped off the top of a building,
Or the car
That is hit by a falling anvil
In a cartoon.
I shatter.
My soul
Is broken
Into pieces too small
For all the kings horses
And all the kings men
To ever
Put back together again.
And you laugh.
And you joke.
And you think it’s all a game.
And you think it’s great fun.
But you know how it is
To hate everything about
Everything.
To wish nothing good
And everything bad
Upon no one but yourself.
You take the blame
When others won’t,
When it’s not yours to take.
And you grab your guilt,
Your pain,
Your suffering,
And you throw it
In the faces
Of those who try to be there for you.
I shatter,
I cannot be put back together.
But I can evolve.
I can change for the better.
But you?
You will always
Stay the same.
Bend,
But don’t break.
Pretend
Everything is fine,
Pretend you’re okay.
We all know
Deep down
You’re more broken
Than all the rest of us
Put together.

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Clarity/ Ignorance is Bliss

Do you ever have those moments
Those moments of pure,
Unadultered,
Clarity?
In which,
You finally understand
Everything you thought you knew
Was wrong,
And everything you thought you were,
Was a lie?
Your mind
Has lied to you
For years,
Telling you
You’re popular
You’re loved
You’re cherished
You’re polite
You’re helpful.
But you’re not.
You are nothing.
You didn’t even realize
Your best friends cry
For help
To save them
From themselves.
Their cry
Fell on your own
Selfish
Un hearing
Ears.
They say ignorance is bliss,
And I’m inclined to believe,
Until I’m hit
With one moment
Of true clarity
And I realize
I can be that person,
The one I told myself I was,
But only if
I don’t lose myself
In the ignorance
Of bliss.

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Bullets

Emotions are not to be shared with strangers. I’m sure we’d all agree, however, that poetry is meant to be shared.

Emotions
Are like bullet proof glass.
It took a lot of work
And endless testing
To design a glass so strong.
And yet,
Even a bullet can’t shatter it’s strength.
Emotions
Can’t be shattered.
But like any man made thing
Bullet proof glass is fallible.
It may not shatter,
But it cracks.
Great, spider web like cracks,
Reaching across the whole sheet,
Scarring it indefinitely.
But the bullets don’t make it through.
Words said without tact,
With malice,
With spite,
Are bullets, reaching for our souls.
Even with our crusty,
Bullet proof,
Impenetrable walls of protection,
There are still going to be
Those bullets
That crack us.
Tiny cracks at first,
Then huge,
Momentous cracks,
Taking up your whole thoughts and minds as your brain screams out,
‘WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? WE WERE FRIENDS, YOU BETRAYED ME!’
But gradually,
Our cracks disappear.
A bit of sealant there,
A bit of duct tape here,
And soon we’re all patched up,
And ready to move on
To the next bullet.
But that first bullet,
The one that cracked our wall,
Is never forgotten.
It’s always visible,
If you look hard enough.
If you have the courage
To reach for the hurt.
But there is no balm,
Salve,
Herb,
Or sweet,
That could ever
Erase the bullet
From your soul.

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The Ups and Downs of Life

Early Monday morning I was hit with a 24- hour stomach bug. Over the course of the next 24- hours, I vomited nine times. NINE TIMES. I spent all day either sleeping, watching Bones, or barfing. That was awful. I didn’t eat for that whole day. That was a definite down.

On the upside, though, my dad bought me a laptop! It’s an amazing, flipity screened laptop, and it’s silver, and it has a touch screen. I am actually typing on it as you read. I’m so happy to finally have a laptop once again! Not only will this be amazing for me writing- wise, it’ll also be great for drawing, due to the touch screen and the built in pen. Did I mention it’s silver?

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of free- time drawing while I’m watching Netflix, such as the aforementioned Bones. Drawing, drawing, drawing… random doodly sketches of people and ponies and Mobians, none of whom you know anything about. Maybe I’ll do a write up about them some time soon. I love my laptop sooooo much! I’m do out of touch, though, typing wise, due to using a tablet so much since the failure of my old laptop and the reception of my school iPad.

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Bittersweet Memories

Melody laughed, kicking up her heels gleefully. Her father was taking her out for a picnic, something they rarely got to do together. They rarely got to do anything together. Tenor was always busy with his special work with the Princess’. But today, he’d came home especially to be with her. As young as she was, Little Mel hadn’t yet realized that his coming home for a day like this meant that her father would be leaving for a long time. “Hurry up Daddy!” Mel yelled happily, pausing on the top of the hillock and looking back towards him, wiggling her tail gleefully. The young blue stallion smiled at his small daughter and scooped her up onto her back as she shrieked with glee. “You wanna fly, Mel? Huh? You wanna fly?” “I wanna fly, daddy!” She shrieked. “Hold on tight!” Tenor pressed a small button on the band if metal on his back and a pair of small, thin, streamlined wings shot out of his back. Small rocket propellers poked out the back of his wings. Tenor ran a few steps forward and took off into the air, speeding at a pace Script would have panicked to see. Listening to his little girl shriek with excitement and glee, Tenor gave a bittersweet sigh. This would be the last time he saw his little girl, his wife and his friends for a year, at the least. Celestia’s orders, he had to go undercover Ina. Compound south of Saudi Arabia. He was working in connection with the Arabian government, and he couldn’t squirm out of this, no matter how hard he tried. He was the perfect stallion for the job, due to his mechanic wings, a wedding gift from Echour, that allowed him to be fast, silent, stealthy and many, many other things. They were an amazing gifts, and they’d melded into his body and become part of his DNA. It was unremoveable. Unchangeable. Like real wings, they were as much a part of him as his green eyes and his whirlwind cutie mark. The only difference was, this part of him was tearing him away from his family.

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Under the Sea (p.2)

Ilirea stared up at the cathedral ceiling of her sleeping chambers, wishing the day would already end. The only time she was alone- the only time she was truly free to think for herself- was during the peaceful solitude of night’s darkness. The night was her cover. The night was hers.

“Princess Ilirea, Heir of Ephemeral, your father the king requests your presence at tonight’s banquet in your honor. He also bid me to remind your Highness that a decision about your Highness’ suitor of choice is to be announced tonight, and your King requires your choice be brought to him before the banquet of honor begins.” The small, weaselly looking squire squinted at her. “Does the Princess have a response for his Kingliness?”

“Tell my King that I do not and will not have an answer to his questions. I will attend the banquet if I must, but I will not be announcing my betrothal to any man, Prince or otherwise.” Illirea flicked the tassel hanging from the side of her bed irritably. The whole ‘your highness’ thing bothered her. She liked the perks of being royalty- never having to sleep hungry, or on the pokey straw mats many of the villagers had to deal with- but she hated the special titles. They made her feel presumptuous and pompous and… She just didn’t like it. “You’re dismissed,” she added when the annoying squire didn’t leave. His eyes widened and he hastily bowed, then turned and hurried out of the room. She glowered after him until he was out of site, then sprang out of bed and grabbed the canvas bag she’d prepared in the  last hour. It was packed with two sets of riding attire, the most informal she had, and some very basic strips of cloth to tie back her hair. In the bottom of the bag was a weeks worth of provisions, food and water. Ilirea wasn’t generally a doer- she was a wait and see-er- but she wasn’t about to wait and see what happened when her father learned she’d refused his orders. Her father was a good king and a good man, but he had quite the temper and she didn’t want to be around to see it.

Ilirea dug under her bed for the maid’s outfit she’d snatched and quickly removed her own bright, soft, silken royal garment and donned the servant’s attire. She pulled the hood of the cloak down low over her face and raced from the room and down the corridor, avoiding servants and royals alike, finally bursting from the back doors of the castle and racing towards the village and the hut which her beloved Na’in shared with his good friend E’lim.

I couldn’t believe my best friend had hidden such a huge thing from me for so long. I mean, a prince? Son of king Andreas, Prince of the Pacific, and he had the nerve to tell me his life was hard? How could he be so blind? King Andreas was the kindest king in all the seven seas!… Wasn’t he?

“Doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, netting up the crumbs from my meal and burying them in the trash heap. “The truth always comes out, that’s what pa says.” I grabbed my rake and left the hut, latching the door firmly behind me. I’d finished my shift at the bakery, but it was harvest time in the gardens of the fair city of Ephemeral. The whole village pitched in to help bring in the crops before they spoiled, or were picked through by scavengers or wild sea horses. The village depended on those crops to survive.

“E’lim! E’lim, wait!” i turned at the sound of my name, startled. The only person who generally called me away from work was my pa, and my pa did not have the voice of a maiden. A startled gasp escaped my lips as I saw the princess racing towards me, her eyes darting nervously around.

“Princess.” I bowed low to her Majesty the Princess of our fair kingdom Ephemeral, irritated at being held up. I had much better things to do than worry about her and Na’in’s tift and… Well, actually, no I didn’t. There was nothing of more importance than the ruling heir and her choosing a king at this time, especially with the whispers of war spreading like an oil spill through the kingdom.

“Don’t call me that!” She cried out, panicked. “Right now, I’m not her Majesty the Princess of fair Ephemeral! Right now, E’lim, I’m Ilirea, and I need your help!” She placed her hands on my shoulders and pulled me out of my bow.

“Alright… Ilirea.” Her  name sounded alien on my tongue, it’s informality seeming an unholy transgression against her person. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Pretend for a moment I’m your friend, and speak to me like a friend instead of a superior!” Ilirea pleaded. “There are those in this village who are looking for war, E’lim, and mobs tend to break out when formality is used.”

“Stop bothering me and let me work, maid!” I yelled, pushing her shoulder roughly. She stared at me, shocked, her hand on her shoulder. Her lower lip started to quiver. ‘Great’, I thought, ‘Now I’ll go to jail for the rest of my life for doing as she said.’

“I only need a minute of your time, Sir!” She cried out, sounding surprisingly like a village maid. “Just give me one minute!”

“There’s not a minute to be spared when the crops are in need of harvest,” I replied coldly.

“Where can I find Na’in?” Princess asked in a low voice, looking up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “I didn’t see him in your hut.”

“I’ve no time for your silly claims of love, girl. Are you daft? I must be on my way to the harvest!” Some passing young men snickered at me, one thumping me on the shoulder.

“You tell her, E’lim!” he laughed.

“Will do, Reilly.” I waited until he’d left before turning back to the Princess. “I have no idea where Na’in is,” I told her honestly, “And even if I had, Na’in specifically forbade me not tell you of his whereabouts. He’d probably be upset simply to learn I told you that… He left.”

“What!” Ilirea gasped, placing her hand over her heart. “He… he left!” She looked up at me, her eyes wide and tearful. “I- I suspected as much, but I guess my heart just… couldn’t accept that he’d ever…” She closed her eyes, clenching her hand in a fist over her heart. After a long moment and a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked into mine. “Pray tell, did he give mention of any place he might visit?”

“I’m sorry, Pri- Ilirea, but he didn’t tell me of any place he might go… He did ask me to tell you, though, that… No matter what, He’ll always love you.”

“Well.” She squared her shoulders and adjusted her pack. “I guess I have a lot of ground to cover if I plan on finding him then, huh?” She looked me in the eyes and smiled. “Thank you, E’lim, for being such a good friend to him and for speaking for me, especially in these times when it could get you in a lot of trouble.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” I bowed low and kissed the princess’ hand. “I hope your travels treat you well, and you find swiftly the want of your heart.”

“Thank you, E’lim.” Ilirea touched my cheek gently. “I must beg of you one last thing.”

“Anything, my Princess,” I replied, rising from my bow.

“I need this letter to be given to a castle servant for the his Sovereignty the King in two weeks time.” Ilirea removed a leather envelope from her sac and handed it to me. “Would you make sure it gets to them?”

“I will, Princess. You have no need to worry for the safety of your letter. But now, you must leave, for I truly do need to work the fields for harvest, and any longer will seem suspicious. We don’t want to start a riot.” I grinned, hoping to amuse her with my light hearted joke, but the look on her face was one of pure terror. “What?” She pointed a shaking arm behind me. I spun around and gasped. A large, unruly group of Mers were gathered behind us with various sharp instruments- pitchforks, rakes, swords, and even torches were brandished in our direction.

“What, uhm… What now?” She whispered in my ear with a nervous smile. Her hands twisted the top of the bag nervously.

“Now, my Princess… We flee.” With a mighty yell, I chucked my pitchfork at them and grabbed her hand, swimming as fast as I could away from them.

“They’re getting closer!” the Princess screamed, her gait faltering. I pulled her along at my speed, my eyes searching frantically for an escape. “There!” Ilirea screamed, suddenly veering off down a side street.

“What-” I gasped, slowing my speed. “Princess, we can’t steal the horses of the tradesmers! It’s unethical, and they need their horses!” She turned to me, irritated, and shook her head.

“I be the princess, lad,” she snapped. “Not stealing! Requisitioning!” She swung up onto a pale green mare with sea shell tack. “If you plan on living, now would be a good time to grab a mount!” She cried, spurring the mare forward, away from the village and towards open water. For a moment I stood there, staring back up the alley we’d come down. ‘Maybe they didn’t see us,’ I thought. Suddenly I heard yelling and saw torch light. The villagers stormed into the alley, screaming their blood rage as they thundered towards me. With a fearful yelp, I grabbed the manes of the nearest horse, a magenta mare with kelp tack, and spurred her hastily after the Princess.

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Over The Fence; a love story (p.4)

“What!” Jacque whispered, staring, shocked, at the model hot young lady standing in front of him. His eyes flickered nervously towards Marco, then back at Crystal. He shook his head quickly and looked away. “Marco, get her out of here.”

“What is it, Jacque?” The young woman let out her lip in a pout. “Do you not like what you see? Do….do you not want me?” Tears sprung to her large, bright, shimmering blue eyes. Jacque scowled at his bed.

“Marco! Get. Her. Out. Please!”

Marco sighed , shaking his head in utter disgust. “Crystal, would you mind terribly stepping out for just a moment?” He asked gently. “My brother and I would greatly appreciate it.” Once she’d left he turned to his brother, furious. “This is a great chance, little brother! Not only would you get a slamming hottie for a wife, but you’d also save her from going to live over the fence! Are you really willing to doom her to that h*llhole?”

“Marco, I’m only seventeen, and I’m not interested in getting married right now. And- and especially not to some superficial, bubbly idiot!” Jacque shook his head vehemently. “I will not marry that bubble headed idiot.”
———–
-“Not much longer,” I murmured, dragging the brush I’d been given through my thick, rat nest of hair. “God, this is the worst! I should just cut it all off.” I glanced at the scissors and sighed. I wasn’t willing to cut my hair off, but I knew I’d probably have to do it. There really wasn’t much choice, when your hair was so snarled and dirty is could house a pack of rats.

“Hey!” Someone called. I could hear running through the piles of trash and waste, banging of shins and knees on heaps of old metal. I grabbed the dagger strapped to my arm and stood by the entrance to my tent, a thick canvas flap, half open to let in air. Just as I suspected, the person was yelling to me. They vaulted through the flap to her tent and landed on their face, unable to brace themselves with their hands in time to avoid a mouth full of dirt. They sprang to their feet and gasped, “I was followed!”

I didn’t recognize the young man, at least not at first glance, but I did recognize the danger of leading a troop of angry, power hungry junk yard rats to my home. “You idiot!” I hissed, smacking him on the side of the head. “Arm yourself, now! Do you want to get yourself killed?!” I turned to him angrily.

“I, uh… I don’t know how to fight!” He whimpered, his already white face paying further. The sun caught on his bright, wolffish yellow eyes. I recognized him then. This was the guy that had given me all the stuff… The brush, the scissors, the candy…. Everything. “I’m from over the fence!”

“If you’re gonna keep visiting this side, you need to learn how to hold your own in a fight!” I snapped, tossing my dagger to him. Alex yelped and jerked aside, letting the dagger fall to the dirt floor of my tent. “Pick it up,” I said impatiently. I could hear the loud, hurried clanging of metal against hand- made armor. My stomach twisted sickly. There was at least seven of them, judging by the footsteps. Seven grown, armored, trained men against me, a tough as nails girl from the tents, armed to the teeth with countless daggers and sharp objects, and a weak, pale, shaking white boy from across the fence! Nowhere near a fair fight.

Shaking with nerves, I pulled a crudely made sword from under my cot, watching the tent flap nervously. “Okay, Alex, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to stand on one side of the flap, you’re going to stand on the other. When they come in, I’ll slice ’em down with my sword. If one returns fight, you distract the others with your dagger. This is possible, this is doable… So long as we keep in control, funneling them through the flap…we can do this!” I smiled encouragingly at the boy, who couldn’t be much older than I was. In this way, though, I was far the superior, having lived on this side of the fence for years.

“I can do that,” Alex replied, his voice shaking. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to lead them here. I… Asked for directions- I’ve never been here in the light before! Then they started chasing me, and-”

“Quiet!” Kira hissed. Fingers grasped the edge of the tent, and began to pull it back….



-TO BE CONTINUED-

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