/* PCD change http to https for CSRF JUL 2017 */ Untitled (no suggestions please) | Chapter 1 | KidPub Press //
Untitled (no suggestions please) | Chapter 1

Untitled (no suggestions please) | Chapter 1

Posted January 14th, 2018 by Syafai

by sUmAyYaH
in my room studying.

A/N: I've been working on this for a while, I hope you guys like this because, really, In the End? by 2-year-old me? what a joke. that story sucks in my opinion tbh. but here, a new story :D

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

 

  

             I had a group of friends and family that we liked to call Tribe ____. The people in it were my freckly cousin Alanna, my redhead cousin Mariam,  my twin best friends Cleo, and Destiny. I’m   Cleo and Destiny look almost the same, but you can tell them apart since they’re mirror twins. Cleo had a birthmark above her left eyebrow, and Destiny had one above her right. Our entire family was, well, dead. All I had were Mariam and Alanna. And all they had were me and each other. Cleo and Destiny always tried cheering us up when something obviously made us upset when something reminded us of the death of our family from the crazy fire that occurred 1976, when Mariam, Alanna, and I were only 5. We were off to a foster care by then. Cleo and Destiny have no guardian, and their parents left them at an orphanage. They ran away from there. It was 1979 when we created our “tribe”, when we were all 8-years-old and went to a school called Stormcoast Academy. Most of the kids who went there had no parents, no gaurdian or gaurdians, and the school never cared about the children anyway, so they never cared about if we went home or not after school, or if we even had parents. The town-like island we lived in didn’t have a “mayor” or just ruler in any case. No one cared about nothing here. Yeah, there were schools, homeless shelters, but foster cares, no one cared. Schools, shelters, no one cared. The people here were just rotten. We felt like the only people that were just caring and had feelings for one another.

 

 

 

        November 8, 1983, we were in 8th grade. The kids in the school were absolute brats. They were racist, and just very mean. That wasn’t very usual, no adult or teenager cared about anyone in the entire island, but they were never as mean as 12 to 13-year-old kids that grow up with guardians or parents that teach them to hate no matter what. Of course, Tribe ___ wasn’t as ambitious, but we felt like we were the most caring people in all of the island, because really, no one else cared but us. We felt lost, growing up on an island with idiotic people around and trying to find our personality because we didn’t know what personality really meant. Did it mean to be a person like everyone else? Or someone that likes all kind of things that most people have different opinions about? Our school didn’t teach us much, so we were pretty dumb. I found it weird that the high schoolers were still learning multiplication and most of them were behind and didn’t even know what addition meant.

 

 

 

      “I hate this school,” I said. Mariam smirked, she didn’t look at me because she was focusing on painting the homeless shelter that we lived in so that we could earn money to buy Michael Jackson CD from the music store  that we could put in the new CD player that the owner of the shelter, Mr. Paige,  bought two weeks ago.  Probably the oldest alive as a 47. People weren’t healthy on this island because there were no doctors, and when people passed out or drowned, they’d be left to die because know one knew how to save one another. He was pretty kind, he put the player on a table in the shelter so that his friends who lived in the shelter could listen to his music too. But he is strict, and he did not let people talk loudly or sing when he says “I need my music right now,” before he starts listening to it. The reason why he says that is because he lost his mom in the same fire and has not gotten over it, not once. He says his music cheers him up a bit.

 

 

 

   “I’m done painting, sir. This paint dries a bit fast, so maybe, like, 3 hours until it’s all dry,” Mariam shouted. Mr. Paige was busy writing in his diary, he’s always working on every detail of the day before when writing. Sometimes when he leaves to go home and see his family, he accidentally leaves his diary on a table next to the CD player and when someone walks near the table, they can see the diary open, and pages with undried teardrops at the corner of their eye, spreading the pen around the dirty paper. It looked so old. We heard his light footsteps getting a bit louder and louder. He came and looked around, seeing  Mariam’s job.

 

 

 

     “Thanks for painting the shelter for me, I couldn’t find anyone else to do it,” he said. Mariam smiled and thanked him. He reached into his pocket and grabbed some money and get it to her. I peaked at it, that wasn’t the money she needed, it was way too much! Aurora’s eyes were wide open.

 

 

 

     “S-Sir, this is way too much money!” she stuttered in shock. I looked at his pockets, they looked all empty. It seemed as if it was all he had for now. It was a whole bunch of dollar bills, which she and I counted to be 788 dollars and 92 cents. I couldn’t believe it! A 12-year-old girl with that much money, she could’ve possibly been the richest child alive then! Mr. Paige started to stutter really bad, all we got from him was “I”, then he fell to his knees and passed out. We never knew how to save him. We didn’t, and we felt terrible for leaving him behind. We packed our bags and headed out of the shelter, leaving the 2 other people in the shelter, who were seemingly not

so poor,  in shock.

 

 

 

   We looked all around the town, we knocked on every single door. Some houses were silent, and no one answered, some answered but did not know who it was, and some doors just broke and fell down. We soon gave up, but we remembered there was a small hotel nearby in Sweet Road. We entered, and knocked on every door except for room 25 because it had a sign hanging on the knob saying “busy as a bee”. Everyone’s door that we knocked on was answered but they didn’t know who it was. Then we just didn’t care for a bit anymore and knocked on room 25. A school-aged boy opened the door, but his face was purple and he looked like he was going to die. He started to cry.

 

 

 

    “My mom is dying, I have no one else, where’s my dad?” he asked weeping. We all looked at each other. We felt terrible. We stepped inside and saw a woman lying on the floor, breathing heavily. She pointed to something on a scratched up white-painted shelf. She squeezed her eyes with the lids, letting out two small tears. I stayed next to the young boy’s mother, comforting her. Cleo went to grab the book. She sat next to me and so did her sister Destiny and everyone else except Alanna because she was helping the boy calm down.

 

 

 

  “This book is from Canada, it teaches ‘CPR’,” Cleo said. The woman passed out. Destiny panicked. I ran to get a spray and fill it up with ice cold water. I came back and sprayed the water all over her face, while Destiny wiped off the dirt from her forehead and cheeks. Cleo found “CPR” easy to do. She used both hands and pushed her stomach 3 times and breathed into her mouth. She did it several times until

the woman came back to life. It seemed like true magic.

 

 

 

 “Are you sick, ma’am?” Destiny asked.

 

 

“Why? What’s wrong with the lights in our house?” she answered. We all looked very confused. Destiny brought the boy from off of his small bed and sat him down on the floor with us and his mother.

 

 

 “She’s deaf,” the boy said. “She only gets words from lip reading. Dad told me when I was little, she began to lose her hearing when she was 11.”

 

 

 “Oh dear,” Cleo said. “I think he has something to tell you both, though.”

 

 

 “What?” the boy asked.

 

 

 “Your father,” Alanna said, “He’s dead.”

 

 

 “Is that really true?” the mother asked.

 

 

 “Mum, I haven’t seen dad since yesterday,” the boy said.

 

 

 “Oh dear.” They both passed out. We tried CPR, but nothing happened. They were gone before we knew it.

 

 

 “I’m not going to do school tomorrow,” Alanna said. “Maybe not ever again. Together, we can learn anything without our careless school. Are you ready for a new start my friends?”

 

 

“Aye,” Cleo and Destiny said. I felt stares as I was walking with them, looking at the muddy sidewalk as the puddles splashed onto my jeans. I looked at the Tribe. Mariam and Alanna were just staring at me, raising an eyebrow. Cleo and Destiny didn’t look at me because they were focusing on fixing up their backpacks for our journey.

 

 

  “Yeah,” I said. “Wait, but where are we going?”

 

 

 

  “Remember that trashy field trip to the zoo?” Alanna asked. I nodded my head.

 

 

 

“When the bus driver was getting us there, I saw a field, with an abandoned barn. The cows were chained to the fence there, they had hay next to them so I’m pretty sure they’re still alive.”

 

 

 

 “Oh, how long does it take to get there?” I asked.

 

 

 

 “We’ll just go to the bus stop and ask the driver to take us to the zoo, and we’ll tell ‘em to stop halfway there, that’s where the field is,” she said.

 

 

 

“Ok, let’s go,” I said. I looked at Cleo and Destiny. “Are you guys ready?”

 

 

 “Yep! Come on!” Destiny shouted. Walking on the besmirched roads, we found a bus stop. We waited very long. A woman walked up to us and sat down on the bench with us at the bus stop. She looked into her purse and looked for something. She picked up a 5 dollar bill from her bag and when the bus came, splashing dirty water all over us, but not her since she blocked it with an umbrella, walking into the bus. The bus driver stopped us because it was already full, even though I saw 4 seats untaken.

 

 

 

 “Stupid bus driver,”  Cleo said. I raised my hand, showing her I agreed. Once the bus started moving, I ran to the middle of the street and childishly danced behind the bus as it was driving away in front of me, singing Ring Around the Rosie.

 

 

 

“Ring around the rosie, I want to break all of your nosies! Ashes, ashes, oh, bus, please fall down!” I shouted with a chuckle. The rest of the Tribe laughed. The bus began to drive backwards. I screamed and ran to the bench and sat down.

 

 

  “Get on the bus,” the driver yelled. It startled us all. We stepped onto the dirty steel ground and made our way into the old breaking machine. We sat down on an empty seat on the left of the bus,  and we didn’t want to sit in different seats from each other so we squeezed ourselves. The bus didn’t move as fast as it did before, we all thought it was breaking down. It started to swirl in all different directions until it leaned on the old candy shop, squeezing us even more. I managed to get out of the squeeze, I grabbed the girls and ran with them in between the vibrations of the screams we were surrounded in, and got out. We jumped out, I fell on my knee, not too hard, but a bit lightly, but I did get a small scar. Catching our breath, Destiny screamed.

 

 

 

“My backpack!” she shouted. She ran inside, but Cleo grabbed her by the neck of her hoodie and told her to stop.

 

 

 

“You can’t go in there, Destiny! It’s breaking into the building, you could die!” Cleo shouted.

 

 

 

 “I need it!” she said. She climbed to the edge of the bottom of the bus and got into it, sliding onto the now-dead driver's chair, and grabbed her backpack and ran back out. We all squeezed her in for a hug, it was terrifying and risky for her to do that, but she was brave.


See more stories by sUmAyYaH
CC: Everyone is dying.

CC: Everyone is dying. That's a little weird. I admit, it's realistic for passing out to lead to death, but I think you might need to think a bit more about the boy and his mother, since they seemed to die of shock.

This little island is quite the dystopia. Why is it like this? It's in the US, or uses US money, why isn't the government here? How did this community go downhill?

What on earth happened to Mr. Paige, and why did he give them so much money and then die? Was he the little boy's father? How did the girls know?

You might need to actually *say* that "the bus spiraled out of control" because I thought something magical was happening, but then no, everyone died. 

THIS IS REALLY INTERESTING, my gosh! I've always liked the idea of a band of found family against the rest of society. 

____________________________________________________________

Spero quod via tua est directa et quod tuum onus est levis.

Posted by *Snow* window w... on Mon, 01/15/2018 - 16:58
Mm, I'll fix every problem

Mm, I'll fix every problem soon. (It's in an island which isn't in the US, it's just some island.)

THANKETH THO <3

 

They can survive, just not as two. Read A Soul's Petal! https://www.kidpub.com/book-page-or-chapter/souls-petal-prologue-3288161...

Posted by freeeeeeeeeeeee... on Tue, 01/16/2018 - 08:49

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