Yesterday's

What is it about: It's historical fiction, and one of the novel ideas that I'm going to write in the future.
Main Character's Name:Adele *rest I won't unveil till later* 

                It was a quiet night, a night in which I was usually in the sunroom studying. A night where I tried to find out where, what, why, and how Little Mercy and Nate were doing during the American Civil War. It was a time in the American period where that war proved nothing where who should have won, actually lost. And the northerners inevitably lost. That fact crushed me to the core. They should have won, should have freed the slaves of the Confederacy. Only they didn’t because of someone. And that someone is somehow connected to Little Mercy and Nate. And I just had to find him or her, and try to change the history somehow, and make the Union win. If only…

                “You okay Missus?” says Nathanial surprising me once again. I sit up and blink the upcoming tears away; hatred was coursing through my blood. I was surprised at how angry I was with the whole slavery thing.  Especially if it ended up breaking up families, and make them fall apart, such as Nathanial’s.

                “Missus?” he asks again. I sigh and turn around in my chair, so I can face him, he looked handsome as usual, and I was glad that he can’t see my blush in the dim light.

                “Nathanial, please just call me Adele, instead of Missus. It makes me feel like I’m married to someone, in which I’m not,” I say the last part quickly, blushing a bit harder.

                “But it’s against the law for a colored person such as me to call you by your name A- I mean Missus,” and I start to wonder if he’s blushing now too.

                “Fine, if you mustn’t say my name then please call me…  Dame, not Missus or Miss, or anything else that starts with an M,” I say remembering the word from one of my studies.

                “Fine, D-dame, but _{you’ll always be a missus to me},” he says the last part so quietly that I ask him to repeat it again. “N-nothing,” he says quickly and I wonder if it’s possible for him to blush harder, “D-do you n-need anything?”

I think for a minute before replying, “One of those electronic devices that you can type on?”

“You mean a laptop, dame?” he says most likely received to stop talking to me. That made my heart twist a little, but I tried not to show it, I did have important research to do.

“Yes, and Nathanial-” he left before I can even finish my sentence. 

10/3/11

I promised I will post on the weekend but that ended up as me getting lazy. So here are 10/3/11-10/6/11 in the following posts.

I know, I know that Burgundy isn't a town it's a provenience in France, but that was all I can think of at the moment.

She seemed so happy on the outside, but her words proved something different. Sadness plagued her like the glue. Tears were silently shed each night, and yet no one would ever know. No one would hear the words she wanted to say, nor would they even bother to listen. She was widely known for her beauty, her brains, but most of all for her smile, but never her words. Whenever she tried to say something, cameras would flash. Whenever she tried to show her writing, it would be easily forgotten the next day. Up, down all around, and well renowned, but never listened.

“Have you seen Meggie’s hair? It was so last year, god she’s so old fashioned,” said one of Meggie’s ‘friends.’ It has always been like this for quite a while, where she kept on hearing back stab after back stab story. She was always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tears would threaten to fall, only to be blinked away. Anger carefully hidden away, an award-winning smile forced on her lips. And they will never know, never know that she overheard them all, never know the trouble they would be in if she used action instead of words. Never knowing what will be in store for one of them one day, till its one day too late. And she will never know the consequence will be to suppress your emotion for too long, till now.

“Oh yes the ponytail is so old fashioned, anyone that even has it is just a plain uncreative loser,” a bunch of giggles started erupting from the five girls. The sound was enough to wake up the whole town.

“It’s-” the girl barely got the first word out, got a slap on the cheek. A dark red spot was forming over the girl’s pale face, as she lay open-mouthed. “What the hell was that for?!” she shrieked.  But no one got a word out as Meggie started slapping the girl again, harder and harder.  But before she can transition into something else, one of the other girls managed to get Meggie into a tight neck hold.

“L-let m-m-me go pl-please?” Meggie choked out. But instead of her loosening the grip, she just tightened it, till darkness started to overcome them all.

It was the next day; there was nothing left but a pale of ashes, under the old willow tree. The six girls weren’t heard from till ten years later, in a little European village of Burgundy. 

Him and Her

I lost my notebook on Monday -_-
And I don't have that teacher again till tomorrow, so I won't be getting it tomorrow. But at least I remember the story, so back to your regular (unusual) scheduled (not) post.

            It was strangely comforting, the crowd, the stuffiness, the heat that causes sweat to stick in the most absurd of places. It was hard to see, bodies pressing so close together, I should have been hyperventilating by now. But I can’t, even when I started to press forward into the thickest of the crowds. All for him.

            The screams were pounding on my headache, my eyes wanting to shut everyone from my view. Sweat was gathering onto my forehead, and I was tired, really tired. And yet I couldn’t sleep, or stop smiling. Even if by now my teeth were plotting some kind of revenge on me, and yet I couldn’t care. The screams, the girls with their awed parents, and laughing boys was somehow giving me energy. My feet were taking a tired step forward, when it felt like at any moment I just might buckle. And it was all for them.

            I was starting to get close now I can feel it. My body was tingling wildly his scent was close by. It felt as if at any moment I just might faint from it all the excitement, and my nervousness. And I couldn’t stop, till I was near him, till I made him sign an autograph for my sister. Who was at the moment getting sicker each second, and it was scaring me to death. “Hey, watch it you [censored],” said a familiar voice. My stomach dropped, my hands started to become clammier but I wouldn’t stop.

            “Good job just a couple more autographs a picture or two, then you can take a rest,” said my publicist. Her voice was filling my ear, from the headset. I started to set a clock ticking downward to it. The important talk waiting impatiently in the air. So I did what he said, and signed a couple more autographs, catching glimpses of screaming girls. Catching a glimpse of her.

            I was close, really close; my heart was beating excitedly as I saw him stop. An unsure expression on his face, which was good because at least it meant that I had more time to catch up with him. Just a couple more steps, till I can catch up to him, get that autograph, and go on with my life where nothing happened, except hoping that my sister got better.

            She was familiar, and yet I couldn’t pinpoint where exactly I saw her. I can hear my publicist saying I should hurry up, instead of just standing there like an idiot, but I wouldn’t listen. I turn to the nearest girl, and was about to ask her that girl’s name, but she was just gaping wildly, frozen, as if I just turned her into an excited statue. And I couldn’t do anything about it, I was about to yell for her to come here, but a taller, leaner, supermodel girl tripped her.

            I was falling, flat in my face with him watching. Great, I’m now going to be very embarrassed, and he surely won’t sign that autograph. And my sister will be very sad, and will probably just die. But I felt someone grab, my arm to steady me. Whoever it was was oddly cold. I was about to look up and thank the person, but instead I started to gape. It was him, and he was right in front of me, not letting go of my arm.

            “Hello,” I say to the gaping girl.

            “H-h-hello,” she stuttered back. I smile,  a funny feeling opening up inside of me telling me that weird stuff are going to be coming up along the way.

‘

Good news bad news

This is my 20 story, signalling 20 days of school, for me. Just thought to let you know.

Harder to lose

Harder to buy

This is the land of

Sugar high

            The poem plays in my head as my fingers start to do their daily dainty work, each evening. This was patching up the soldiers’ belongings, or also known as their clothes, and once in a while one of the items that their mother, sister, or sweetheart would send in. And each night, I would silently try and not cry, as pictures of my mother and little sisters come to my mind. Oh, it was hard work, for the women in the war, always worrying, cleaning, and taking care of stuff. It seems as if it will never leave a lady’s life in the near future. It was always too much work, and barely any free days.

            “Oh stop complaining Anita, there are others who has it way worse,” said Mother Lila as if reading my thoughts. I don’t bother to look up at her over the fire, as my fingers patch up this nasty rip on one soldier’s uniform.

            “I ain’t complaining, Mother Li, I was just… thinking about how life is hard and-”

            “In a complaining tone, thinking or not? Yeah right, I can hear ya complaining a mile away, even if it is in your head,” she says in her strict grandmotherly way. I sigh, and roll my eyes a bit, reprimanding myself a bit for doing it again. “But anyways…” she trails off a bit as if a bit unsure of how to go on. I start to put my guard up, preparing myself for the worst. War does that to you, it gives you a nasty surprise when you were expecting one to be good and hopeful. After a while, though you’ll get used to it, even if it took a year or two.

            “The boss…” uh oh, if it’s something about the doctor then it’s going to be bad really bad. “Are you listening Anita?” she says bringing me back to reality, just as my mind was about to go to the worst case scenarios at what might of happened to the doctor.

            “Yeah, I’m listening,” I say giving her a quick glance before going back to my mending.

            “Well then, the boss said ya can take a day off a day after tomorrow,” she says quickly, in an almost grump voice but underneath it I can catch just a hint of gratitude.

            “Oh thank you, thank you!” I yell, suppressing the urge to jump up and down and give her a peck on the cheek.

            “Don’t thank me, thank the boss, and he’s got something else for ya…” she trails off uncertainly again, but I didn’t notice because I was excited about having a day off again. “He um, said that… Your brother,” she takes a deep breath before muttering the last word so quietly that I couldn’t hear.

            “Come again?” I ask my beating heart still excited.

            “I said your brother um… died?” she said. Everything started to crash down, onto me as I realize why the doctor even gave me a day off. My brother dead and he was the only other lifeline I had here, without him…. I don’t bother thinking about the stuff that might happen now. In fact, I don’t bother to notice everything around me anymore, once I heard that he died, I just shut down. In the distance, I can hear Mother Lila screaming my name, and someone else, someone familiar, and yet not familiar. But I don’t hear their words behind the screams, or the scrambling feet, because I can feel myself being welcomed into the darkness.

           

            

Stay Alive

This was a dream I had today, and I obviously didn't have time to write it down before school because I had to get ready and all that. So here it is, may be the longest story I have written in a while.

            It was the middle of the eightieth annual Hunger Games. You may be thinking about what has happened to the revolution that has happened to stop the games. Well it happened, all right, but it didn’t last long. It turned out that people were more civilized with the games around. And so now, here I am fighting my life off, in the deadliest game in the world. Only this time the stakes are higher. There have been more incidents caused by the gamekeepers, less supplies, even a water scarcity. Even the kids are different, somehow developing a power or as the capitol, people call it ‘natural gifts.’ Throughout the years, I have saw on TV kids with light coming out of their hands, telekinesis, and even super speed. These were the kids that usually won; these were the kids that were the most deadly in the games.

            There were only two sides in the tributes freaks or the ones with powers, and mundanes the ones without powers. And I’m on that side pretty much useless, having never picked up a weapon in my life. It was amazing that I made it this far, I was in the top seven and seventeen has died. Some in painful ways that I have hoped to never see again, and others were lucky just quick and painless. They were my friends, and they were dead. And now I’m doing their promise

Stay alive.

            And I did, or else I wouldn’t have made it this far. “Cadet?” asked a now familiar female voice.

            “Yeah?” I say opening my eyes, and unconsciously look for her even though she was invisible. It was the first time a freak and a mundane had allied together, all over the world the people were most likely spreading rumors high and low about it. I mean it wasn’t as if we’re doing anything very romantic. Instead for running for our lives.

            “Come on, it’s time to go before, t-they find us,” her voice cracking a little bit. I sigh and hold out my hand, and she graciously takes it, gently pulling me up from the soggy autumn ground. And without really thinking about it, we set out in a random direction, away from them. For a moment, it was just the sounds of our breathing and our growling stomach. It has been exactly two days since we ate anything, and I had a feeling that the gamekeepers weren’t going to let out any new game yet. “Oh Cadet, I’m scared,” she whispered softly. And for the first time since I woke up, I felt her hand shaking.

            “Don’t worry, we’ll live,” I smile reassuringly, feigning confidence. That most likely didn’t help her at all, so I squeezed her hand reassuringly. In fact I don’t think I believed that myself. I can feel her eyes looking at me sternly, invisible or not.

            “How can you be sure? It’s been over a week, and the weather is quickly turning cold. What if…” she didn’t have to say the rest, I already knew what she was thinking.

            “They let the winners fend for themselves during winter,” I finish for her. I can tell she was nodding dumbly, tears most likely gathering in her eyes. We continue walking for a bit, before I decided to stop in a middle of a clearing. Autumn leaves full on the ground not yet crunchy enough to make sound. It was full of color, perfect for a lunch. I shake my head thinking to myself that it wasn’t time to be thinking about food.

            “Don’t worry, Cali,” I say pulling her in for a hug. Her heart was beating hard against my chest, and I can tell that mine was probably beating as quickly as hers was. She smelled of simple spring days, warm and full of flowers. Full of hope, and not of the despair that the games carry. I can feel her tears soak my shirt, and for the first time did, I notice how scared she was.

            “I-I’m scared, and I have a feeling that I might…” she trails off, and I don’t bother to try to pry her for what she means. Instead, I just hold her closer. It was a pleasant feeling; sure, the people watching right now might think I’m slightly crazy. But they’ll believe her because of her voice. In fact, a small plan was unfurling, maybe enough to make us alive.

            “We’ll live,” and this time I meant it.

Labor Day

Today is Labor Day so sorry no post, since school is closed, no story today. I just realized that I was being redundant.
Well here's part of a story.

Sleep, I need it, and yet for some reason I don't.
Friends I need it, and for some reason they just ignore me.
Tears just fall.
This is the fourteen years and eleven months of me.

More like a poem, but I think I can make a story out of it.

The War of P.E

While I was walking around the gym with my friends (couldn't sit down, and I didn't feel like playing any of the three different sports). We nearly got hit with a soccer ball with a couple of times. Once or twice with a basketball, and not much with an hockey puck. It reminded me of dodge ball, which I'm glad we didn't do yet...

Balls flying, kids running, and screams were heard everywhere.

This was the war of P.E.

            It all started with a ‘simple’ game of dodge ball, which still hasn’t stopped. So far, the score was 101-95, and I was on the losing side. Food was hard to come by, and it was only for the survivors. The people that couldn’t get out the door each day simply didn’t eat. There always seemed to be an unlimited amount of balls. Each time they replace it, well let’s just say it wasn’t regular nerf balls anymore. But it was starting to turn into light wooden balls; soon it might turn into light metal balls. The winners, gets the best protection, while the losers gets the remains. Bruises were starting to become a regular thing.

            Each and every day, everyone goes to school to get ready for another war of dodge ball. Each and every day, they say we’re learning math and all that, but it seemed more like a game of survival. Plus more like training to be a soldier. Once the clock ticks down to three o’clock, we’re free to go. Go home to our ‘tents’ and tell our parents of the news that was happening on the war each day. And if some of us were lucky, we might get sponsored, or at least given some money, so we can bribe the principal not to let us play today’s game. It usually worked, but it usually meant having to work in the infirmary to treat the person that has the most serious bruise. Rarely was there anyone with a broken arm or leg. If there was, the person responsible for it was thrown into jail for a couple of days. Only were they allowed to get out to go home, to get his or her parents to sign the paper saying what he or she done.

            There was just one rule and that was survive, which I should be doing right now. Currently I’m hiding behind the bleachers, which are where the minor injuries are treated, as well as the people who got out for that round. I should be out there right now, throwing balls, trying to win for my team, but I couldn’t because I have a secret to tell. A secret that I shall burn up just as soon as school lets out for the day. A secret that none of my team members should know. And that is…

            I love one of the peoples on the enemy’s side.

A person, I shall not name just in case someone happens to pick up the paper I was writing. And it is a person that is one of the strongest of them all. And a person that was dead set on killing me, or at least making me severely injured so I can’t play for the rest of the year. And he seemed like the type of person willing to get expelled for it as well.

            But why?

            

The Girl with the Notebook

It's short, and not really a story, and it was hard to think of since it is the first day of school and all that. And it didn't storm, and don't think it's about me because it isn't. Well here it goes.
~.~.~.~

It was the first day of school, again. The sky was dark and stormy; it was almost like the sea itself, this time it was in anger. The wind whipped violently, and the students talked huddled together to get warm. It was freezing and yet the teachers weren’t willing to let in the students just yet. But that didn’t demolish the back to school spirit. Friends hug each other, and yell each other names. Talking about how their summer went and how they have missed each other. The loners and the newbies stand alone, some scared and very shy, others determined to make friends with as bunch as unfamiliar faces as they can. And through it, all was a girl with a blue notebook writing it all down.

“Tall, blonde, and beautiful,” they say about her. And yet she hasn’t made many friends.

“She was made to be a cheerleader,” whispered some of the other students, and yet she was a determined journalist. Sure, she has money, but not popularity. She has brains and yet no dates. And yet she didn’t really care about all that, in her own way she was content. She has no serious drama or some sort of trouble in her life. She has a handful of close friends she can trust all her secrets to, she doesn’t get picked on or do anything stupid.

And

Yet

One

Day…

She just became depressed. Trying hard to suppress suicidal thoughts, only to have it haunt her sleep. She always has to keep up a façade, always having to suppress the urge to grab the nearest sharp object. And all just because of a guy, that broke her heart. And make her

F

A

L

L.