What barren lands are these
the black sea that stretches shore to shore
the eternal bridge of creaking, croaking wood
that spans across the rippling murmurs
the inky, blackest tears of despair
Scraggly weeds that struggle
through the hard, hard soil
cracking through, thriving
amidst the eating, churning maggots
Tendrils of deep green ivy
that swirls around the forsaken walls
how it weeps into the mightiest heart
the strongest shield
the stoutest badge of courage
Dark as it has become, it's always been
ink dripping in the corners
shadows of night that flit from way to where
and stretches of sand that stir the land
Oh, what barren lands are these!
that swirl and tumble in the soul
corrupted, and filthy, who would have thought?
the darkest heart of them all
is a child
8I9Q5 Part 4
A gentle breeze caressed Jaron's face as he lay on the cool, green grass. Trees stretched up to the sky around him, and a creek trickled by. For all the calming sounds of nature, his thoughts continued to trouble him.
Could what Lainey told him really be true? If it was, the implications were enormous! The government being a conspiracy sounded ridiculous, after all. Jaron had laughed out loud at first, but her hard eyes drilled into him, and he quieted. What she told him fit too well, the puzzle pieces sliding in beside each other, a vortex of knowledge.
He didn't want to believe her. This perfect world...the Utopian society...he loved it all, and enjoyed his life. Wouldn't it be so convenient to ignore the evidence that piled up around him, and continue to believe that his world was safe and secure and happy? But once you know, you have a responsibility. And Jaron couldn't dodge it.
He thought of the classes at school, and the values pummeled into him. Conform. Be like everyone else. Listen to authority. Don't be different. Now that he saw it all in a different light, Jaron realized Lainey wasn't lying.
And the last, final puzzle piece had been slammed into place as she shoved him a photograph, taken with a primitive camera. It was fuzzy and difficult to see, but he knew what it was. A twisted, mangled body. Dyan.
His thoughts turned to the creature that destroyed her, the men that dispatched it, and he loathed them suddenly, deeply. Seething anger shivered in his bones, and a groan escaped his lips. How could Jaron have failed to protect her, how could someone want to kill her, that lovely, bright, cheerful girl? His sister. Hot, burning tears slipped down his cheeks, tears of rage and fury, tears of grief and regret.
Jaron leaped to his feet and swung a fist in the air. He would fight. They could kill him if they wanted to, but he would fight. Jogging out of the arborium, he caught sight of two girls strolling down the street. "Permelia!" he called. "Lainey!"
***
Everything, so overwhelming. Smells and sounds and sights and tastes and feels all crowding in on it, smothering it until it couldn't breathe, but of course it could because of its nature. Every second was spent being bombarded with all the world and all its aspects, every little cell and yapping dog encroaching in its mind.
Shaking its head in pain, Adi darted down the road, sleek as a panther, deadlier than Death itself. More than the over load of sensory information was the hunger. Oh yes, the hunger. The thirst. Clawing at its throat, Adi let out mewls of frustration.
Suddenly. A smell. Blood and flesh and meat, delicious. Adi snarled and leaped upon the human, tearing and ripping. Finally, sweet ectasy, coating everything until there was nothing but joy, nothing but the purest feelings, and at least for a few moments, the awful texture of life was gone.
Could what Lainey told him really be true? If it was, the implications were enormous! The government being a conspiracy sounded ridiculous, after all. Jaron had laughed out loud at first, but her hard eyes drilled into him, and he quieted. What she told him fit too well, the puzzle pieces sliding in beside each other, a vortex of knowledge.
He didn't want to believe her. This perfect world...the Utopian society...he loved it all, and enjoyed his life. Wouldn't it be so convenient to ignore the evidence that piled up around him, and continue to believe that his world was safe and secure and happy? But once you know, you have a responsibility. And Jaron couldn't dodge it.
He thought of the classes at school, and the values pummeled into him. Conform. Be like everyone else. Listen to authority. Don't be different. Now that he saw it all in a different light, Jaron realized Lainey wasn't lying.
And the last, final puzzle piece had been slammed into place as she shoved him a photograph, taken with a primitive camera. It was fuzzy and difficult to see, but he knew what it was. A twisted, mangled body. Dyan.
His thoughts turned to the creature that destroyed her, the men that dispatched it, and he loathed them suddenly, deeply. Seething anger shivered in his bones, and a groan escaped his lips. How could Jaron have failed to protect her, how could someone want to kill her, that lovely, bright, cheerful girl? His sister. Hot, burning tears slipped down his cheeks, tears of rage and fury, tears of grief and regret.
Jaron leaped to his feet and swung a fist in the air. He would fight. They could kill him if they wanted to, but he would fight. Jogging out of the arborium, he caught sight of two girls strolling down the street. "Permelia!" he called. "Lainey!"
***
Everything, so overwhelming. Smells and sounds and sights and tastes and feels all crowding in on it, smothering it until it couldn't breathe, but of course it could because of its nature. Every second was spent being bombarded with all the world and all its aspects, every little cell and yapping dog encroaching in its mind.
Shaking its head in pain, Adi darted down the road, sleek as a panther, deadlier than Death itself. More than the over load of sensory information was the hunger. Oh yes, the hunger. The thirst. Clawing at its throat, Adi let out mewls of frustration.
Suddenly. A smell. Blood and flesh and meat, delicious. Adi snarled and leaped upon the human, tearing and ripping. Finally, sweet ectasy, coating everything until there was nothing but joy, nothing but the purest feelings, and at least for a few moments, the awful texture of life was gone.
8I9Q5 Part 3
The chilling blue eyes glowed, the faint, spidery-thin green lines from the computer screen reflected in them. As Dr. Bennett carefully studied the map of Adi's brain, he noted the rush of the recently-discovered chemical, forehylen, into the section of the brain associated with pleasure and desire. A small, tight smile formed on his face - his "killing machine" had successfully disposed of the girl who had known more than she should have. The one thing Dyan hadn't known was that everyone, save Dr. Bennett himself, had a microchip implanted in his or her brain at birth. Tabs were kept on everyone, especially those who seem to shy away from conforming, which was how he had discovered that she no longer took the so-called energy tablet.
It was brave of her, he conceded, to forgo food of any sort. After all, she lived almost like the anorexics of the past, steadily growing thinner and thinner. But still, bravery is really just audacity, and audacity, rebelliousness, and other unfavorable qualities were the largest mistakes of past societies. When those are allowed, civilization crumbles into ruin, with war and disease. Society is a delicate, fragile fabric, and the slightest disturbance can build up a tremor, then a violent shaking, and all is lost.
People must be controlled. Everything must be controlled. When there is no regulation, there is no peace. That is the sole reason for the energy tablet, which was the perfect way to dumb down citizens' minds.
***
Mrs. Sparks walked briskly into Mr. Hallman's office, the only sign of distress being her nervous, darting eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Hallman," she greeted him.
He raised his eyes from his paperwork. "Good morning. How are you?"
"Well, thank you. And you?"
Letting out a deep sigh, he stood and cracked his neck. "I have seen better days."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Biting her lip, Sparks avoided his eyes.
"Is something the matter?"
"Well...yes." Hallman glanced pointedly at the clock. Flustered, she continued, "A girl. Dyan Kipling? She's missing."
He coolly sat back down. "If she is, there is a reason. Thank you for stopping by, and have a good day."
"Oh!" Sparks flushed. "I - I'm sorry."
Hallman, ignoring her, called for his secretary, and began to dictate a letter. "Thank you...thank you for seeing me. I hope you're day is good as well." Sparks swallowed and rushed from the room.
***
The bell sounded, and students calmly left the school, except for Jaron. Looking slightly disturbed, he slipped through the crowd, muttering apologies, which earned him frosty stares. "Lainey!" he cried, spotting the tall girl with dusty brown hair. "Wait - please."
She turned, and then nodded in acknowledgement. "Jaron. I'm surprised to see you."
Before he could reply, she went on, "Perhaps it would be best if we talked somewhere more private."
They weaved their way towards a small niche in the side of the building, something Jaron had never noticed. "Where's Dyan?" he asked breathlessly.
Lainey glanced at the empty courtyard. "Gone."
"Gone? What do you mean?"
She stooped down and wiped up something with her finger. Holding it up, he saw the fingerpad had turned red. "Gone," she repeated.
The word hit him like a stack of stones thrown on his chest. "You're...you're lying. She's not - how could she be dead?"
Smiling humorously, Lainey replied, "Because she knew too much. Let me show you."
It was brave of her, he conceded, to forgo food of any sort. After all, she lived almost like the anorexics of the past, steadily growing thinner and thinner. But still, bravery is really just audacity, and audacity, rebelliousness, and other unfavorable qualities were the largest mistakes of past societies. When those are allowed, civilization crumbles into ruin, with war and disease. Society is a delicate, fragile fabric, and the slightest disturbance can build up a tremor, then a violent shaking, and all is lost.
People must be controlled. Everything must be controlled. When there is no regulation, there is no peace. That is the sole reason for the energy tablet, which was the perfect way to dumb down citizens' minds.
***
Mrs. Sparks walked briskly into Mr. Hallman's office, the only sign of distress being her nervous, darting eyes. "Good morning, Mr. Hallman," she greeted him.
He raised his eyes from his paperwork. "Good morning. How are you?"
"Well, thank you. And you?"
Letting out a deep sigh, he stood and cracked his neck. "I have seen better days."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Biting her lip, Sparks avoided his eyes.
"Is something the matter?"
"Well...yes." Hallman glanced pointedly at the clock. Flustered, she continued, "A girl. Dyan Kipling? She's missing."
He coolly sat back down. "If she is, there is a reason. Thank you for stopping by, and have a good day."
"Oh!" Sparks flushed. "I - I'm sorry."
Hallman, ignoring her, called for his secretary, and began to dictate a letter. "Thank you...thank you for seeing me. I hope you're day is good as well." Sparks swallowed and rushed from the room.
***
The bell sounded, and students calmly left the school, except for Jaron. Looking slightly disturbed, he slipped through the crowd, muttering apologies, which earned him frosty stares. "Lainey!" he cried, spotting the tall girl with dusty brown hair. "Wait - please."
She turned, and then nodded in acknowledgement. "Jaron. I'm surprised to see you."
Before he could reply, she went on, "Perhaps it would be best if we talked somewhere more private."
They weaved their way towards a small niche in the side of the building, something Jaron had never noticed. "Where's Dyan?" he asked breathlessly.
Lainey glanced at the empty courtyard. "Gone."
"Gone? What do you mean?"
She stooped down and wiped up something with her finger. Holding it up, he saw the fingerpad had turned red. "Gone," she repeated.
The word hit him like a stack of stones thrown on his chest. "You're...you're lying. She's not - how could she be dead?"
Smiling humorously, Lainey replied, "Because she knew too much. Let me show you."
Fields of Bliss
And for once, the Others were free.
They had shed the chains of oppression and now stood in the open expanse of the field, liberty rising among them like fog at the harbor. So unused were they to this sensation that they stood still, uncertain and hesitating.
It was one girl among them, slightly shorter and slimmer than the others, who had made the first move. She had dark chestnut hair pulled back in a tight bun, and gray eyes set in her drawn face. Oh yes, the eyes. The eyes that swirled and brimmed with broiling seas, as filled with mystery and intrigue as a barrel is filled with fish. Jeanne had taken a wavering step forward, and now she hunched over, eyes desperately searching the vast, empty yet full field. Then, in a wild, reckless move, she tore her hair out of the bun, so violently that several strands had drifted to the ground.
But her hair, at least, was free. It hung, a curtain of hidden beauty, resting on her neck and shoulders. Murmuring moved among the rest of the Others as they watched this spectacle with wide eyes.
Encouraged by this, Jeanne ripped away her gloomy, gray cardigan, revealing a sleeveless blouse. She let out a shiver of joy as the breeze caressed her bare arms for the first time. The murmuring grew. She shucked off her shoes and threw them as far as she could, giggling at this marvel. Then, giddily, she leaned over and tore away strips of her black skirt, until the ragged edge reached only half-way to her knees.
Silk sheets of wind wrapped around her, and she let out a screech of elation. Around her, the Others were copying her, removing cardigans, skirts, buns, and shoes. The murmur rose to a hum, then a chatter.
Grass brushed against her bare feet, and she yanked up tufts of it and experimentally threw it in the air. Movement paused to watch this event, before someone tossed a clod of dirt. It smashed into a young girl's face, who let out a squeal.
Soon, dirt was thrown everywhere, the spheres of mud splashed into everyone - their clothes, their skin, their faces, their hair. But then - was it Jeanne, again? - someone leaped upon another and clawed at her face with her hands. Screams of a different sort echoed in the air, high and piercing.
Then all was chaos. All was bliss. Blood splattered the grass, and flew in high, arcing streaks. Yells and cries, grunts and murmurs, all soared.
At last, everyone lay limp, eternally free, eternally chained. Only Jeanne still crawled through the red-stained grass, straining for the liberty, just out of her reach. "One more..." she whispered. "One more..."
But then at last, she gave out, in the fields.
They had shed the chains of oppression and now stood in the open expanse of the field, liberty rising among them like fog at the harbor. So unused were they to this sensation that they stood still, uncertain and hesitating.
It was one girl among them, slightly shorter and slimmer than the others, who had made the first move. She had dark chestnut hair pulled back in a tight bun, and gray eyes set in her drawn face. Oh yes, the eyes. The eyes that swirled and brimmed with broiling seas, as filled with mystery and intrigue as a barrel is filled with fish. Jeanne had taken a wavering step forward, and now she hunched over, eyes desperately searching the vast, empty yet full field. Then, in a wild, reckless move, she tore her hair out of the bun, so violently that several strands had drifted to the ground.
But her hair, at least, was free. It hung, a curtain of hidden beauty, resting on her neck and shoulders. Murmuring moved among the rest of the Others as they watched this spectacle with wide eyes.
Encouraged by this, Jeanne ripped away her gloomy, gray cardigan, revealing a sleeveless blouse. She let out a shiver of joy as the breeze caressed her bare arms for the first time. The murmuring grew. She shucked off her shoes and threw them as far as she could, giggling at this marvel. Then, giddily, she leaned over and tore away strips of her black skirt, until the ragged edge reached only half-way to her knees.
Silk sheets of wind wrapped around her, and she let out a screech of elation. Around her, the Others were copying her, removing cardigans, skirts, buns, and shoes. The murmur rose to a hum, then a chatter.
Grass brushed against her bare feet, and she yanked up tufts of it and experimentally threw it in the air. Movement paused to watch this event, before someone tossed a clod of dirt. It smashed into a young girl's face, who let out a squeal.
Soon, dirt was thrown everywhere, the spheres of mud splashed into everyone - their clothes, their skin, their faces, their hair. But then - was it Jeanne, again? - someone leaped upon another and clawed at her face with her hands. Screams of a different sort echoed in the air, high and piercing.
Then all was chaos. All was bliss. Blood splattered the grass, and flew in high, arcing streaks. Yells and cries, grunts and murmurs, all soared.
At last, everyone lay limp, eternally free, eternally chained. Only Jeanne still crawled through the red-stained grass, straining for the liberty, just out of her reach. "One more..." she whispered. "One more..."
But then at last, she gave out, in the fields.
Fourteen
I pushed open the glass door, my backpack slung over my shoulder, and entered the main lobby, that awful sterile, too-clean smell wafting in the air. A passing nurse cheerily greeted me, "Hey Kelsey! How was school?" but didn't wait for a reply as she strode away.
Dropping my school bag on the floor, I sat down on the hard, garish orange plastic chair, grimacing at the discomfort. I took out a notebook and opened to a clean page, and started to write my English essay, pausing now and then to glance at my research and notes. After a few minutes, I stopped and studied the words I had scrawled on the page: It is important that we save the environment because otherwise plants, animals, and even we could die out. After all, it's not just our planet - we share it with all the other life.
Cringing at my own writing, I tore out the page, balled it up, and tossed it into the trash can. The receptionist glared at me disapprovingly over her rimmed glasses, so I shrugged apologetically. Sighing, I started again. The earth in all its beauty is a precious thing - a jewel in the vast sea of the universe. No. Terrible. I erased it, leaving little shreds of pink, and began once more. How often do we stop to think - no, no, no! Too condescending!
I groaned and let the pen slip from my fingers. How will I ever finish my homework? But then again, what does it matter anyway? Almost angrily shoving it back into my backpack, I let out a low, bitter chuckle. I'm past caring about homework.
Beside my chair was a small little table, with four or five brightly colored magazines strewn about it. On a whim, I picked one up and studied the cover image. A tall, blonde woman with almond-shaped eyes stood next to a brawny, upset man, underneath giant, yellow block letters: WHO DUMPED WHO? Mentally correcting the grammatical error, I flipped through the pages. So-and-so broke up with so-and-so, and this baseball player was found on steroids, and that one died while drunk two nights ago. Exasperated, I threw it back down and slumped over in seat, resting my head in my hands.
"Kelsey? Kelsey!" I jerked awake, blinking drowsily at the nurse before me.
Smiling sheepishly, I mumbled, "Sorry, I think I fell asleep."
"You need to get more sleep," the nurse chided. "I know you teens like to stay up all night long at your little parties, but really. You do have school the next day!" I nodded to get her off my back. "All right, now follow me. He's ready to see you."
She briskly walked down the hallway, and I trailed after her. Soon we reached the pale pink door, which she opened and gestured for me to go inside.
A shrunken, weak man lay in the bed, tubes sticking out of him every which way. Slowly, I approached him, and when I reached the bedside, I quietly said, "Hi Dad. It's me."
He grunted. "Who's that?" It came out sounding like whoozat.
"Me. Kelsey."
Frowning, he thought for a minute. His face uncreased as he suddenly recalled who I was. "Yes, yes." The man coughed. "Where's Sam and Jimmy?" Wheresamanjimmy.
"You mean Scott and Jamie?"
He waved his hand in the air. "That's what I said." Thasutisud.
I pulled up a chair and sat down. "Rachel's watching them, and Clay, too."
The man stared at me strangely. "Who's them?" Whozem.
Patiently, I replied, "Rachel is the babysitter. She stays until six. Clay is the baby."
After a coughing fit that racked his frail body, the man started to ramble about his childhood. He told me in great detail about the farm he grew up on, though I knew he was raised in Chicago. By 5:30, he fell asleep, and I left.
***
I dropped the twenty dollar bill in Rachel's outstretched hand. "See you tomorrow."
Already chatting amiably at her cell phone, she nodded at me and drove away. I closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a few seconds. "Hey!" someone shouted. "Kels! You're home!"
A small, lithe figure darted through the living room, and skidded to a stop in front of me. "Hey," I replied wearily. His twin, Jamie, rushed up behind him.
"We drew pictures in school today!" he announced. Mumbling something along the lines of "how nice", I searched for something edible. "Mine was way better than Scott's."
Scott glared at him. "Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was - "
Slamming the refrigerator door, I whirled around, clutching the carton of eggs. "Stop it! Stop it right now!"
They sulkily studied their scuffed sneakers. "Somebody's not happy today," one of them murmured.
"You got that right," I snapped, yanking the oven on. The twins stood somewhat still for a few moments, before coming back to life.
Jamie grabbed a toy airplane and ran around, making whooshing sounds. "Boy," he suddenly said, pausing his game. "Clay smells something awful."
Groaning, I stared gloomily at the pan of frying eggs. "Well, I can't change him now. Why don't one of you do it?"
The two protested, but I cut them off. "I never see you doing work around the house. Make yourselves useful for once!"
Around ten minutes later, we were ready to eat our greatly over-cooked eggs. "Eggs for dinner?" Scott asked increduously. "No one eats eggs for dinner!"
"Well, you do now." I stabbed the egg visciously with my fork, and winced as bright yellow liquid spurted in the air.
"Eww," the twins exclaimed in unison. They glanced at each other.
"Can I eat at Bobby's house again?" Jamie cautiously requested.
***
I sighed as I perched on the bed. The laundry was cleaned, the house mopped, the spills wiped up, the kids fed, the baby put to sleep, the kids in bed, and I was ready to go to sleep.
Tiredly setting the alarm clock - which now read 10:40 - to 4:00 so I could get to my shift at McDonald's the next morning, I noticed someone had left the closet door open. The kids must have been playing in here again! I thought.
I started to close the door, when I noticed a small envelope. Curious, I tore it open, revealing a short section of white-lined paper. Written on it in unfamiliar, loopy letters was "Happy 14th Birthday, Kelsey!"
Surprised, I placed it on the dresser and then climbed into bed. Staring at the ceiling, in the dark, I began to weep.
Dropping my school bag on the floor, I sat down on the hard, garish orange plastic chair, grimacing at the discomfort. I took out a notebook and opened to a clean page, and started to write my English essay, pausing now and then to glance at my research and notes. After a few minutes, I stopped and studied the words I had scrawled on the page: It is important that we save the environment because otherwise plants, animals, and even we could die out. After all, it's not just our planet - we share it with all the other life.
Cringing at my own writing, I tore out the page, balled it up, and tossed it into the trash can. The receptionist glared at me disapprovingly over her rimmed glasses, so I shrugged apologetically. Sighing, I started again. The earth in all its beauty is a precious thing - a jewel in the vast sea of the universe. No. Terrible. I erased it, leaving little shreds of pink, and began once more. How often do we stop to think - no, no, no! Too condescending!
I groaned and let the pen slip from my fingers. How will I ever finish my homework? But then again, what does it matter anyway? Almost angrily shoving it back into my backpack, I let out a low, bitter chuckle. I'm past caring about homework.
Beside my chair was a small little table, with four or five brightly colored magazines strewn about it. On a whim, I picked one up and studied the cover image. A tall, blonde woman with almond-shaped eyes stood next to a brawny, upset man, underneath giant, yellow block letters: WHO DUMPED WHO? Mentally correcting the grammatical error, I flipped through the pages. So-and-so broke up with so-and-so, and this baseball player was found on steroids, and that one died while drunk two nights ago. Exasperated, I threw it back down and slumped over in seat, resting my head in my hands.
"Kelsey? Kelsey!" I jerked awake, blinking drowsily at the nurse before me.
Smiling sheepishly, I mumbled, "Sorry, I think I fell asleep."
"You need to get more sleep," the nurse chided. "I know you teens like to stay up all night long at your little parties, but really. You do have school the next day!" I nodded to get her off my back. "All right, now follow me. He's ready to see you."
She briskly walked down the hallway, and I trailed after her. Soon we reached the pale pink door, which she opened and gestured for me to go inside.
A shrunken, weak man lay in the bed, tubes sticking out of him every which way. Slowly, I approached him, and when I reached the bedside, I quietly said, "Hi Dad. It's me."
He grunted. "Who's that?" It came out sounding like whoozat.
"Me. Kelsey."
Frowning, he thought for a minute. His face uncreased as he suddenly recalled who I was. "Yes, yes." The man coughed. "Where's Sam and Jimmy?" Wheresamanjimmy.
"You mean Scott and Jamie?"
He waved his hand in the air. "That's what I said." Thasutisud.
I pulled up a chair and sat down. "Rachel's watching them, and Clay, too."
The man stared at me strangely. "Who's them?" Whozem.
Patiently, I replied, "Rachel is the babysitter. She stays until six. Clay is the baby."
After a coughing fit that racked his frail body, the man started to ramble about his childhood. He told me in great detail about the farm he grew up on, though I knew he was raised in Chicago. By 5:30, he fell asleep, and I left.
***
I dropped the twenty dollar bill in Rachel's outstretched hand. "See you tomorrow."
Already chatting amiably at her cell phone, she nodded at me and drove away. I closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a few seconds. "Hey!" someone shouted. "Kels! You're home!"
A small, lithe figure darted through the living room, and skidded to a stop in front of me. "Hey," I replied wearily. His twin, Jamie, rushed up behind him.
"We drew pictures in school today!" he announced. Mumbling something along the lines of "how nice", I searched for something edible. "Mine was way better than Scott's."
Scott glared at him. "Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Was - "
Slamming the refrigerator door, I whirled around, clutching the carton of eggs. "Stop it! Stop it right now!"
They sulkily studied their scuffed sneakers. "Somebody's not happy today," one of them murmured.
"You got that right," I snapped, yanking the oven on. The twins stood somewhat still for a few moments, before coming back to life.
Jamie grabbed a toy airplane and ran around, making whooshing sounds. "Boy," he suddenly said, pausing his game. "Clay smells something awful."
Groaning, I stared gloomily at the pan of frying eggs. "Well, I can't change him now. Why don't one of you do it?"
The two protested, but I cut them off. "I never see you doing work around the house. Make yourselves useful for once!"
Around ten minutes later, we were ready to eat our greatly over-cooked eggs. "Eggs for dinner?" Scott asked increduously. "No one eats eggs for dinner!"
"Well, you do now." I stabbed the egg visciously with my fork, and winced as bright yellow liquid spurted in the air.
"Eww," the twins exclaimed in unison. They glanced at each other.
"Can I eat at Bobby's house again?" Jamie cautiously requested.
***
I sighed as I perched on the bed. The laundry was cleaned, the house mopped, the spills wiped up, the kids fed, the baby put to sleep, the kids in bed, and I was ready to go to sleep.
Tiredly setting the alarm clock - which now read 10:40 - to 4:00 so I could get to my shift at McDonald's the next morning, I noticed someone had left the closet door open. The kids must have been playing in here again! I thought.
I started to close the door, when I noticed a small envelope. Curious, I tore it open, revealing a short section of white-lined paper. Written on it in unfamiliar, loopy letters was "Happy 14th Birthday, Kelsey!"
Surprised, I placed it on the dresser and then climbed into bed. Staring at the ceiling, in the dark, I began to weep.
8I9Q5 Part 2
Jaron grabbed his small, slender pill and a glass of water. The energy tablet seemed as if it held golden swirls of pine resin, but he knew very well from Biology that it was was a mixture of natural chemicals. In the past, as he learned in History, people actually had "meals", where they sat down and consumed crazily large quantities of food. It wasted loads of time, amounting to as much as three hours! Jaron shook his head in amazement as he swallowed the pill. Twenty-first century people had no idea how to conserve time. Things are so much better in the twenty-second century, he decided. Every hour in the day is put to good use - no need to even sleep with the energy tablet, invented by a man named Dr. Bennett.
Suddenly, a short girl with swinging pigtails appeared. "Hey Jaron!" she exclaimed. "Grab me one of those tablets, would you?"
He stared at her strangely, passing her a pill. "Why are you talking and acting so old-fashioned?"
Rolling her eyes, Dyan replied, "Gosh, where've you been? Today's Celebrate History Day, and I'm pretending to be from the year 2015!"
"What are you talking about? 'Celebrate History Day'? There's no such thing!"
She sniffed. "There is in my imagination."
Jaron sighed as he walked outside, biting his lip. Ever since Dyan had begun associating with those two friendless girls at school, Permelia and Lainey, she had been so odd. Society is about conforming, and being like everyone else, and whereas previously she had been normal, now it was almost as if she strived to be different. As her older brother, he could only hope she would learn from his example eventually. It was every citizen's responsibility to correct the mistakes made in the past and to help others do so, after all. Look how much the old people messed up! If it wasn't for courageous scientists like Dr. Bennett and his father, then there would probably still be pollution.
As he walked past the rows of pale blue houses, an idea suddenly struck him. He could convince Dyan that Permelia and Lainey were just not worth it, and she might go back to normal! Better yet, he would talk to those two girls and tell them to leave his sister alone. Yes, that was the perfect idea.
The rectangular gray school building lay ahead, and Jaron pushed the door open. Inside, other boys and girls of varying ages nodded in acknowledgement, those he knew well greeting him. "Hello, Jaron. It's nice to see you again."
He responded politely and moved forward to see his closest friend, saying, "Hello, Aric! How are you?"
Aric smiled. "Very well, thanks. I hope you're the same."
"Yes, thank you." They exchanged a few more trivial questions, before Jaron explained the increasingly worse situation with Dyan.
His friend's eyes widened. "Oh, that's serious! And you say it's started when she began seeing those girls? I've heard many things about them, you know."
"What sort of things?"
"They're not...right in the head, if you catch my drift." Aric tapped the side of his. "Making strange comments. Gestures. That type."
Jaron nodded knowingly. "I see. Then I suppose I really had better get to talking to them about leaving my sister alone."
"That would be a good idea. Would you like me to come with you, or are you all right by yourself?"
"I'm fine, but thank you." He smiled, then turned and searched for the girls. As he walked into the courtyard, he noticed Dyan. "Hello!" he called to her.
She waved back gaily, and started to approach him, but he was already walking away. Jaron must be looking for someone, she thought. Oh well, I have to go meet Parmelia and Lainey anyway.
Dyan walked to their customary meeting place, a hidden niche in the side of the building. It was dark, but secret, and they had roughly twenty minutes before classes started. Waiting, she noticed a dark figure inside, and froze. Had someone found this place? How?
There was a flash of gold, a blurred image of something moving in the air, sparks of pain, and then she was aware of no more.
Suddenly, a short girl with swinging pigtails appeared. "Hey Jaron!" she exclaimed. "Grab me one of those tablets, would you?"
He stared at her strangely, passing her a pill. "Why are you talking and acting so old-fashioned?"
Rolling her eyes, Dyan replied, "Gosh, where've you been? Today's Celebrate History Day, and I'm pretending to be from the year 2015!"
"What are you talking about? 'Celebrate History Day'? There's no such thing!"
She sniffed. "There is in my imagination."
Jaron sighed as he walked outside, biting his lip. Ever since Dyan had begun associating with those two friendless girls at school, Permelia and Lainey, she had been so odd. Society is about conforming, and being like everyone else, and whereas previously she had been normal, now it was almost as if she strived to be different. As her older brother, he could only hope she would learn from his example eventually. It was every citizen's responsibility to correct the mistakes made in the past and to help others do so, after all. Look how much the old people messed up! If it wasn't for courageous scientists like Dr. Bennett and his father, then there would probably still be pollution.
As he walked past the rows of pale blue houses, an idea suddenly struck him. He could convince Dyan that Permelia and Lainey were just not worth it, and she might go back to normal! Better yet, he would talk to those two girls and tell them to leave his sister alone. Yes, that was the perfect idea.
The rectangular gray school building lay ahead, and Jaron pushed the door open. Inside, other boys and girls of varying ages nodded in acknowledgement, those he knew well greeting him. "Hello, Jaron. It's nice to see you again."
He responded politely and moved forward to see his closest friend, saying, "Hello, Aric! How are you?"
Aric smiled. "Very well, thanks. I hope you're the same."
"Yes, thank you." They exchanged a few more trivial questions, before Jaron explained the increasingly worse situation with Dyan.
His friend's eyes widened. "Oh, that's serious! And you say it's started when she began seeing those girls? I've heard many things about them, you know."
"What sort of things?"
"They're not...right in the head, if you catch my drift." Aric tapped the side of his. "Making strange comments. Gestures. That type."
Jaron nodded knowingly. "I see. Then I suppose I really had better get to talking to them about leaving my sister alone."
"That would be a good idea. Would you like me to come with you, or are you all right by yourself?"
"I'm fine, but thank you." He smiled, then turned and searched for the girls. As he walked into the courtyard, he noticed Dyan. "Hello!" he called to her.
She waved back gaily, and started to approach him, but he was already walking away. Jaron must be looking for someone, she thought. Oh well, I have to go meet Parmelia and Lainey anyway.
Dyan walked to their customary meeting place, a hidden niche in the side of the building. It was dark, but secret, and they had roughly twenty minutes before classes started. Waiting, she noticed a dark figure inside, and froze. Had someone found this place? How?
There was a flash of gold, a blurred image of something moving in the air, sparks of pain, and then she was aware of no more.
8I9Q5 Part 1
Dr. Bennett carefully examined the creature pacing back and forth in the container, which was made of a special glass-diamond material. Gesturing to the animal, he asked, "Did you give it extremely sharp senses, as I requested?"
"Oh yes, yes, of course," Dr. Ricks earnestly assured him. "With its sense of smell, 8I9Q5 can distinguish between individual cells, and can see the tiniest object from five miles away, if there are no barriers."
Bennett's nostrils flared. "No barriers," he repeated, his piercing blue eyes boring into the man in front of him. "No barriers. Do you suppose this...this whatever-you-call-it will be working on a flat, open Kansan field?"
Chuckling weakly, Ricks replied, "No, no, of course not; 8I9Q5 can still see rather far in an ordinary setting. Right now, for instance, he could see microscopic blemishes on your face!"
"I should hope so," he growled in return. "Now, tell me of its other senses. Hearing - how's that?"
"Excellent. A baby can cry halfway across the state and it will know of it."
8I9Q5 tossed its head suddenly, letting out an icy, bone-chilling cry. Rows of small but sharp teeth, occasionally punctuated by large, fearsome fangs, were revealed. As it continued to pace back and forth, sinewy muscles rippled beneath its sleek, glossy black fur. "What's the matter with it?" Bennett demanded.
"It's thirsty," Ricks answered. "Here's a chance for you to see its hunting skills!" Rubbing his hands together, he laughed softly. "This will, without a doubt, astonish you." He turned to his lab assistant, a young, ambitious woman, and said, "Jennifer, release him into GYE 56."
She nodded and pushed a few buttons on a panel. Bennett studied his perfectly manicured nails, a practiced expression of boredom on his face. "You're about to see Adi at his best," Ricks gloated.
"Adi?" Bennett said, raising an eyebrow.
Ricks's face colored. "A little nickname for 8I9Q5. 8I sounds like Adi."
Snorting in contempt, Bennett turned to the container marked GYE 56, where Adi prowled. It was filled with large amounts of plants and undergrowth, almost like a forest. An ordinary looking horse was pushed inside, eyes rolling wildly with fear.
Faster than their eyes could track, Adi streaked across and, in one smooth, swift motion, brought the horse down. There was a flash of claws and fangs, and then the horse fell to the ground, mangled and blood-soaked. Letting out a roar of triumph, Adi bent its head and began to feast.
Wrinkling his nose, Bennett sniffed, "Can't it kill any cleaner?"
"It can, but it never does," Ricks replied darkly. "That thing...it loves to kill."
"A true killing machine, then."
Ricks shifted his position. "No. Not a machine. Machines can't think, but Adi can. This only makes him all the more dangerous."
"I would hate to see it prematurely released, before we could program it to fulfill our needs, and our needs alone."
"Well! That's why we have so many precautions, eh?" Ricks chortled. "But no, don't worry. Adi will never escape. How is it possible?"
Pausing briefly from its meal, the creature looked up, golden eyes glinting.
"Oh yes, yes, of course," Dr. Ricks earnestly assured him. "With its sense of smell, 8I9Q5 can distinguish between individual cells, and can see the tiniest object from five miles away, if there are no barriers."
Bennett's nostrils flared. "No barriers," he repeated, his piercing blue eyes boring into the man in front of him. "No barriers. Do you suppose this...this whatever-you-call-it will be working on a flat, open Kansan field?"
Chuckling weakly, Ricks replied, "No, no, of course not; 8I9Q5 can still see rather far in an ordinary setting. Right now, for instance, he could see microscopic blemishes on your face!"
"I should hope so," he growled in return. "Now, tell me of its other senses. Hearing - how's that?"
"Excellent. A baby can cry halfway across the state and it will know of it."
8I9Q5 tossed its head suddenly, letting out an icy, bone-chilling cry. Rows of small but sharp teeth, occasionally punctuated by large, fearsome fangs, were revealed. As it continued to pace back and forth, sinewy muscles rippled beneath its sleek, glossy black fur. "What's the matter with it?" Bennett demanded.
"It's thirsty," Ricks answered. "Here's a chance for you to see its hunting skills!" Rubbing his hands together, he laughed softly. "This will, without a doubt, astonish you." He turned to his lab assistant, a young, ambitious woman, and said, "Jennifer, release him into GYE 56."
She nodded and pushed a few buttons on a panel. Bennett studied his perfectly manicured nails, a practiced expression of boredom on his face. "You're about to see Adi at his best," Ricks gloated.
"Adi?" Bennett said, raising an eyebrow.
Ricks's face colored. "A little nickname for 8I9Q5. 8I sounds like Adi."
Snorting in contempt, Bennett turned to the container marked GYE 56, where Adi prowled. It was filled with large amounts of plants and undergrowth, almost like a forest. An ordinary looking horse was pushed inside, eyes rolling wildly with fear.
Faster than their eyes could track, Adi streaked across and, in one smooth, swift motion, brought the horse down. There was a flash of claws and fangs, and then the horse fell to the ground, mangled and blood-soaked. Letting out a roar of triumph, Adi bent its head and began to feast.
Wrinkling his nose, Bennett sniffed, "Can't it kill any cleaner?"
"It can, but it never does," Ricks replied darkly. "That thing...it loves to kill."
"A true killing machine, then."
Ricks shifted his position. "No. Not a machine. Machines can't think, but Adi can. This only makes him all the more dangerous."
"I would hate to see it prematurely released, before we could program it to fulfill our needs, and our needs alone."
"Well! That's why we have so many precautions, eh?" Ricks chortled. "But no, don't worry. Adi will never escape. How is it possible?"
Pausing briefly from its meal, the creature looked up, golden eyes glinting.
A Warm Summer Night
Hot air wafted in through the screen windows as I lounged on my bed, sipping the cool, refreshing lemonade. Outside, the familiar noises of tires rubbing against the rough surface of the road echoed, and I listened contentedly. It was too humid to read or hang out with my friends, so I was perfectly happy to relax, half-lost in a misty daydream.
Suddenly, there was a loud screech as bumper smashed into bumper. There were yells, and then brief quietude, before sirens tore through the air. Jolted out of my thoughts, I put down my glass and shoved my flip flops on. As I pushed open the door of my room, Eddie ran by. "A crash," he called, hurrying down the stairs.
I followed, heart thumping. For a few moments, I couldn't undo the latch on the back door, but it felt like long years. Finally, the door creaked open, and I ran out. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The science teacher at our school had once explained to us that if time ever stopped, oxygen particles would become as hard as iron ones. I could hardly breathe and momentarily wondered if time had indeed stopped.
But the sirens were still sounding their cry, and fire engine after police car after fire engine raced past me, creating a small, short lived breeze. A dark figure streaked past me, and I froze, before realizing it was just the neighborhood cat.
Running, I soon reached the intersection of the two streets, where two smashed up cars stood still. Around me, kids gradually gathered, curiosity painted on their faces. "Look," Sara whispered to me, pigtails swinging. "Isn't that Maggie's car?"
The dark blue car, with its windshield shattered and front terribly damaged, did look familiar. She peered at me. "Are you all right, Kate? You're pale!"
"I...I'm fine," I managed, blood pumping and ears ringing. "Is that really her car?"
Sara nodded confidently. "Yeah, I know her car. Cheap model." Glancing around, she leaned closer. "I think there's something wrong with her, though. She's so...weird. You know what I mean?"
I swallowed. Amid the shrieking sirens, there was silence.
Suddenly, there was a loud screech as bumper smashed into bumper. There were yells, and then brief quietude, before sirens tore through the air. Jolted out of my thoughts, I put down my glass and shoved my flip flops on. As I pushed open the door of my room, Eddie ran by. "A crash," he called, hurrying down the stairs.
I followed, heart thumping. For a few moments, I couldn't undo the latch on the back door, but it felt like long years. Finally, the door creaked open, and I ran out. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The science teacher at our school had once explained to us that if time ever stopped, oxygen particles would become as hard as iron ones. I could hardly breathe and momentarily wondered if time had indeed stopped.
But the sirens were still sounding their cry, and fire engine after police car after fire engine raced past me, creating a small, short lived breeze. A dark figure streaked past me, and I froze, before realizing it was just the neighborhood cat.
Running, I soon reached the intersection of the two streets, where two smashed up cars stood still. Around me, kids gradually gathered, curiosity painted on their faces. "Look," Sara whispered to me, pigtails swinging. "Isn't that Maggie's car?"
The dark blue car, with its windshield shattered and front terribly damaged, did look familiar. She peered at me. "Are you all right, Kate? You're pale!"
"I...I'm fine," I managed, blood pumping and ears ringing. "Is that really her car?"
Sara nodded confidently. "Yeah, I know her car. Cheap model." Glancing around, she leaned closer. "I think there's something wrong with her, though. She's so...weird. You know what I mean?"
I swallowed. Amid the shrieking sirens, there was silence.