| | The Desert Sun: A story | |
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Makkine Moderator
Posts : 2772 Join date : 2010-05-17 Age : 26 Location : Woah
| Subject: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 3:48 pm | |
| - Spoiler:
Chapter One: Lydia Lydia huddled in her corner of the cart, far away from the potent sun. There were still cracks in the roof, though, and the light captured little dust particles that danced and reveled in it. The light framed the darkness even more so, and together they painted a landscape of chiaroscuro, a paradise of light and shadow, a radiant universe with great big slashes of darkness across it’s surface.
The cart was rather disheveled, and where Lydia sat the wood was splintering, except for the parts where it was worn smooth. Perhaps from other girls running from the sunlight? The whole place smelled musky, and it was excruciatingly hot, and the wooden wheels bumped over the broken-down road, though that didn’t stop the horses’ feet from continuing the monotonous rhythm of their hooves.
Moving was always a hassle. But before, it had been city to city. It had never been across the whole continent. They had been in this cart for most of the year already, and the twins’ faces were freckled due to the sun. Lydia looked almost exactly the same as she had when she had left her northern country, with pale skin and piercing eyes, with stringy hair of a very light blondish-brown. Like a ghost, her friends had said. The driver said they would be arriving today. To Hed.
There was a war going on here, apparently. That’s why they were going. Dad was going to fight, and mom was going to raise some goats in this farm. Lydia and her brothers were receiving an education, her mom had said. They weren’t going to be illiterate farmer’s children anymore. Lydia just wanted to be at home.
She knew that was impossible, though. The fights had been covered up for enough time. The worries had never escaped the family’s eyes into the outside world. But they all knew they were running out of money and unless dad went to fight they were going to starve.
The horses stopped running, all of a sudden. The oldest twin, Oliver, poked his head through the door. “Lydia, stand up. We have to find lodging for the night. The house won’t be ready till to-morrow, and in order to find a place to sleep we have t’-”
“Oliver!” Dad’s rough voice came like thunder. “Get out here and help us! Carrying the luggage is a men’s job, and Lydia can cook us dinner at night,” Oliver smiled his toothy smile and headed out.
The sun was blistering hot in the desert, and at last the weary family found a place to stay. The people there spoke rudimentary Sonyaghitan, and they acted nicely, but in their eyes you could see and overwhelming fear.
- Spoiler:
Chapter 2: Karjonsa
Karjonsa made his way through the crowd of people in the market square. Mentally, he recorded some details of the conversations people were having. Two people were making a deal. Someone’s goat was feeling ornery that day. A group of kids huddled in a corner of the market and laughed about their misfortunes or their luck. An old, smiling person came up to Karjonsa, looked at him, and started laughing a broken laugh filled with wheezing and madness.
Being an young boy in a war-torn country was difficult for anyone, but it had its own twisted charm. Amidst all the chaos and despair, there was a hidden order to things. Sure, Karjonsa was almost at that stage where you’re not an adult and not a kid, and sure, he would rather live in a utopian city were nothing ever happened, but in a place where disorder ran rampant amongst the streets and where no one was sure who was going to be in charge the next day one could see the true workings of the universe.
“Everyone, hear!” A young newsboy called. “The Sonyaghitans have taken over Nedmula! They might attack any second! Be sure to practice your evacuation techniques every day!” His voice was a feeble warning, one issued every day, and no one listened to it anymore. The newsboy knew that. But the people had come to rely on him and his ubiquitous message. Pride was necessary to survive through the day.
At last, Karjonsa found the stand he had been looking for. The scruffy girl was still siting on his mat, looking at no where in particular. When Karjonsa bounded in, she looked up and nodded. “Are you going to buy something again?”
“I am not going to buy something,” Karjonsa said the exact same thing he said every day. He was like a newsboy. “I want to hear one of your stories,” he sat down. Looking straight at her eyes, they momentarily made contact. It was obvious the girl wasn’t looking at Karjonsa, though. She was probably looking beyond her eyes, beyond the political issues in Hed, to Ambi’s realm.
“I wrote one during yesterday’s night,” For a few hours, both Karjonsa and the girl were in a place other than Hed. They were in an ethereal land of clouds and magic, where everything came true. They were in another person’s shoes, feeling the pain and happiness of the character. eventually, the story ended and the girl waved Karjonsa good-bye.
A century ago, the girl could have been famous and rich. Story-tellers were sought-for across the land back then, but not because of escapism, but because the people had free time and didn’t have a war to worry about. But then again, a century ago the town would be placid and calm. There wouldn’t be hectic people running barefoot over the streets, laughing and screaming and crying. A century ago, the happiness would be ordinary. And when a feeling becomes ordinary, it ceases to exist.
The next day, a great number of people were murdered, on the streets, by Sonyaghitan soldiers with big rifles. They screamed, their eyes like fire and their words like whips. Karjonsa escaped death, and the soldiers ordered the survivors home. The newsboys had been right. And now there were corpses on the streets, because nobody listened.
There was mourning for the shopkeeper that gave fruits free to poor children. There was mourning for the government official who wasn’t afraid to interact with his townspeople. There was mourning for the widow with five children. There was no mourning for the story-telling girl without a name. Except by Karjonsa.
- Spoiler:
Chapter 3: Relja
Relja was working at her schoolwork in Sonyaghitan Immersion All-Girls Boarding School. A teacher would always be at the front of the room, with bored eyes and a fake smile, but all in all the environment was a lax one. The work was repetitive and quite easy, but the teacher seldom changed the sheets, meaning that most of the time in the dull room was spent looking at nowhere in particular or sleeping. Talking was forbidden. Even the ability to daydream was lost in the passage of time that trickled away slowly as the student reread the passage on the slave rebellion in 1799 or found the blatantly obvious symbolism in the story.
“Is everyone working with diligence?” The northern-accented teacher asked. “Because it will not be of good luck to the student I catch not working hardly.” She ignored the fact everyone was done and told us to meet her after class.
“I am done with the worksheet, Mrs. Egner,” a student near the front said. She was probably a new student, no one past induction would dare say that. Mrs. Egner smiled, a chilling smile that told all of the people in the room that they can’t win, because they don’t have the authority to win.
She stepped forward, leaned over the rebellious girl, whispered words that sounded like knifes, and left. Everyone went back to looking at the wall.
For the next 6 hours, Relja continued alternating between sleeping, working, or looking around listlessly. Food was served in big, round bowls, and everyone ate with the same attitude they had had while working. There were 5 minutes of interaction, but nobody was in the mood to talk that morning and waited for the Mrs. Egner to hand out the afternoon papers. “This time, everyone better work hardly. In the morning, no one was working of diligence, but if you don’t work this time you will had to meet me after class,”
Everyone filled out the papers as usual and did not work diligently. All they did was stare at the time passing by as they spent the time.
Relja wasn’t her real name. no one here remembered their real names, except for maybe the kid who had called out earlier. Relja was a nickname given to her by her classmates, the same ones who were breathing in the heavy air right now.
At last, the day had ended and they prepared for whatever punishment Mrs. Egner had prepared today.
“Good night, my students. For your punishment, tonight you will have to stay awake in this exact room. No one sleep. If you sleep, I will whip you. I do not like staying awake the whole night to guard over you scum, but there is nothing I can do about it,” the punishment was said in a casual tone, and the students settled in for a sleepless night. It was the first of many.
Last edited by IluvJB36 on Mon Jun 21, 2010 3:19 pm; edited 2 times in total | |
| | | Sakura Devoted Fantagian
Posts : 585 Join date : 2010-01-27 Location : The Sky
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 3:51 pm | |
| Amazing vocabulary! I love it! 10/10 | |
| | | pokeranger Hero Fantagian
Posts : 5454 Join date : 2010-01-29 Age : 24 Location : Loading...
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 3:52 pm | |
| Did you write that? You sound like Shakesphere! xD | |
| | | soccer4lifeyo Regular Fantagian
Posts : 237 Join date : 2010-01-30 Age : 25 Location : Over there
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 3:56 pm | |
| | |
| | | Oliver Moderator
Posts : 4588 Join date : 2010-03-03 Age : 23 Location : *lights up a fire* yeah, trying to surivve in a fores.t *smokse a cig* il kill you
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 7:27 pm | |
| DUDE. Sissy, thats beautiful. x3 | |
| | | pinkys Loyal Fantagian
Posts : 1834 Join date : 2010-01-26
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Tue Jun 15, 2010 7:30 pm | |
| awesomee!! luv the vocabb | |
| | | Makkine Moderator
Posts : 2772 Join date : 2010-05-17 Age : 26 Location : Woah
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Thu Jun 17, 2010 7:28 pm | |
| - Spoiler:
Chapter 2: Karjonsa
Karjonsa made his way through the crowd of people in the market square. Mentally, he recorded some details of the conversations people were having. Two people were making a deal. Someone’s goat was feeling ornery that day. A group of kids huddled in a corner of the market and laughed about their misfortunes or their luck. An old, smiling person came up to Karjonsa, looked at him, and started laughing a broken laugh filled with wheezing and madness.
Being an young boy in a war-torn country was difficult for anyone, but it had its own twisted charm. Amidst all the chaos and despair, there was a hidden order to things. Sure, Karjonsa was almost at that stage where you’re not an adult and not a kid, and sure, he would rather live in a utopian city were nothing ever happened, but in a place where disorder ran rampant amongst the streets and where no one was sure who was going to be in charge the next day one could see the true workings of the universe.
“Everyone, hear!” A young newsboy called. “The Sonyaghitans have taken over Nedmula! They might attack any second! Be sure to practice your evacuation techniques every day!” His voice was a feeble warning, one issued every day, and no one listened to it anymore. The newsboy knew that. But the people had come to rely on him and his ubiquitous message. Pride was necessary to survive through the day.
At last, Karjonsa found the stand he had been looking for. The scruffy girl was still siting on his mat, looking at no where in particular. When Karjonsa bounded in, she looked up and nodded. “Are you going to buy something again?”
“I am not going to buy something,” Karjonsa said the exact same thing he said every day. He was like a newsboy. “I want to hear one of your stories,” he sat down. Looking straight at her eyes, they momentarily made contact. It was obvious the girl wasn’t looking at Karjonsa, though. She was probably looking beyond her eyes, beyond the political issues in Hed, to Ambi’s realm.
“I wrote one during yesterday’s night,” For a few hours, both Karjonsa and the girl were in a place other than Hed. They were in an ethereal land of clouds and magic, where everything came true. They were in another person’s shoes, feeling the pain and happiness of the character. eventually, the story ended and the girl waved Karjonsa good-bye.
A century ago, the girl could have been famous and rich. Story-tellers were sought-for across the land back then, but not because of escapism, but because the people had free time and didn’t have a war to worry about. But then again, a century ago the town would be placid and calm. There wouldn’t be hectic people running barefoot over the streets, laughing and screaming and crying. A century ago, the happiness would be ordinary. And when a feeling becomes ordinary, it ceases to exist.
The next day, a great number of people were murdered, on the streets, by Sonyaghitan soldiers with big rifles. They screamed, their eyes like fire and their words like whips. Karjonsa escaped death, and the soldiers ordered the survivors home. The newsboys had been right. And now there were corpses on the streets, because nobody listened.
There was mourning for the shopkeeper that gave fruits free to poor children. There was mourning for the government official who wasn’t afraid to interact with his townspeople. There was mourning for the widow with five children. There was no mourning for the story-telling girl without a name. Except by Karjonsa.
Aww, thanks guys! This chapter is written with a different point of view, so that's why it's weird. Also, It takes place in the past. 19th century. | |
| | | Oliver Moderator
Posts : 4588 Join date : 2010-03-03 Age : 23 Location : *lights up a fire* yeah, trying to surivve in a fores.t *smokse a cig* il kill you
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Thu Jun 17, 2010 9:01 pm | |
| xD (I have a inside joke) Anyways, exellent job. :3 | |
| | | Makkine Moderator
Posts : 2772 Join date : 2010-05-17 Age : 26 Location : Woah
| Subject: Re: The Desert Sun: A story Mon Jun 21, 2010 3:18 pm | |
| - Spoiler:
Chapter 3: Relja
Relja was working at her schoolwork in Sonyaghitan Immersion All-Girls Boarding School. A teacher would always be at the front of the room, with bored eyes and a fake smile, but all in all the environment was a lax one. The work was repetitive and quite easy, but the teacher seldom changed the sheets, meaning that most of the time in the dull room was spent looking at nowhere in particular or sleeping. Talking was forbidden. Even the ability to daydream was lost in the passage of time that trickled away slowly as the student reread the passage on the slave rebellion in 1799 or found the blatantly obvious symbolism in the story.
“Is everyone working with diligence?” The northern-accented teacher asked. “Because it will not be of good luck to the student I catch not working hardly.” She ignored the fact everyone was done and told us to meet her after class.
“I am done with the worksheet, Mrs. Egner,” a student near the front said. She was probably a new student, no one past induction would dare say that. Mrs. Egner smiled, a chilling smile that told all of the people in the room that they can’t win, because they don’t have the authority to win.
She stepped forward, leaned over the rebellious girl, whispered words that sounded like knifes, and left. Everyone went back to looking at the wall.
For the next 6 hours, Relja continued alternating between sleeping, working, or looking around listlessly. Food was served in big, round bowls, and everyone ate with the same attitude they had had while working. There were 5 minutes of interaction, but nobody was in the mood to talk that morning and waited for the Mrs. Egner to hand out the afternoon papers. “This time, everyone better work hardly. In the morning, no one was working of diligence, but if you don’t work this time you will had to meet me after class,”
Everyone filled out the papers as usual and did not work diligently. All they did was stare at the time passing by as they spent the time.
Relja wasn’t her real name. no one here remembered their real names, except for maybe the kid who had called out earlier. Relja was a nickname given to her by her classmates, the same ones who were breathing in the heavy air right now.
At last, the day had ended and they prepared for whatever punishment Mrs. Egner had prepared today.
“Good night, my students. For your punishment, tonight you will have to stay awake in this exact room. No one sleep. If you sleep, I will whip you. I do not like staying awake the whole night to guard over you scum, but there is nothing I can do about it,” the punishment was said in a casual tone, and the students settled in for a sleepless night. It was the first of many.
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