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Well...This is something I had been working on and decided to post it here. Comments are apprecialted. Yeah...so here goes!
Andy sprinted out of the house he stumbled down the old wooden stairs onto the cracked cement driveway. After he caught his balance he took off again. The flurries of snow made it impossible to see more than a foot or so in front of you. He was running so fast he wasn’t even trying to go around people. Angry citizens called after him but he didn’t hear them. The words wouldn’t mean anything to him unless he got to the phone. The only phone in a five mile radius was at the store. There were a great many more before. But now, you were lucky to have one and if you had one, to actually have electricity to work it. Andy reached the busiest street in the whole town. The cars were driving as fast as usual despite the snow. The traffic was blowing by him and nobody was stopping. The store was in sight. That meant the phone was practically in reach. There was a gap in the cars so he started running again. His chest was rising and falling and his breathing was heavy and ragged. His sweat was freezing as it dripped down his face he was almost there when he went flying up. Then there was pain then nothing.
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“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” cried Miss Marsh as she stumbled down to the small boy in the street. High heels were part of the dress code at His Majesty’s castle. They looked nice and professional but they were very inconvenient in the snow. “Somebody! Somebody HELP! HELP!” She fell to her knees beside the boy. Her floor length purple gown surrounded her. The snow that was falling made the gown look like there was glitter on it. As much as she liked embellishments anything other then solid floor length gowns were against the dress code. Nobody was coming to help. The traffic had stopped and horns were blaring in her ears and the people in the cars were getting angry. The blood from the boys head and nose was staining the snow around him red. Little streams of blood were running down his face from a cut in his forehead that erupted from the impact of the ground. Some of the streams were so small that they would freeze into little icicles as they came to the edge of his face just hanging off the side of his head. He was loosing a lot of blood. He was loosing so much blood that it was soaking into her dress from the snow. The car that hit him had taken off right after he hit him with out stopping. “HELP! Somebody help me!”
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“Where is he!?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about sir.”
“Yes you DO! Now hand him over!”
“Please Sir, with all due respect, I don’t know who you are talking about.”
“YOU KNOW!”
“Sir, I really don’t know.”
“Fine. Maybe you’ll remember after a day in the pit!?”
“NO! He left! He ran! I don’t know where he is now! Don’t take me! Don’t take me!” She was sobbing. She dropped to her knees begging. The bruise on her cheek was swelling and was turning green and blue. As was the one on the back of her knee. The pit was a dredful place for only the worst criminals. There were murderers and assassins and every vial creature that ever set foot on earth. Most people that went in never came back out.
“Don’t think this is the last of us. We’ll be back. Enforcers, OUT!” The Enforcers marched out not even trying to step around her broken belongings on the floor. After the Enforcers had left Kemay looked around the room from her position on the floor. Everything she owned was destroyed. The lamp her mother had given her had a hole in it from the impact of the butt of the Enforcers gun. The shelf of food she kept for herself was knocked down. All the cans of vegetables that were there were dented and rolling around on the floor. The jars of fruit she had, had fallen to the ground and there were splinters of glass everywhere on the thin carpet that covered the cement floor. The juices from the jars were making puddles and seeping through. Kemay attempted to stand up. She grabbed the antique cupboard that now had dents everywhere and the shelves inside were knocked down and crooked. She used it to help hoist herself off the ground onto her wobbly legs. When she was finally all the way up she cried out in pain and collapsed. Another bruise was growing on the front of her shin. She tried to take a deep breath but a stabbing pain from many broken ribs kept her from doing so. The pain went so deep she felt vomit coming up her throat. All she could do was lay on the floor breathing shallowly waiting to pass out. Her final thought before doing so was, run fast, Andy.
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The horns became a constant noise and nobody could hear her cries for help. By now the boys’ skin was grey with the exception of his face that was red with blood. His whole right side was bruised and his right arm was bent at an odd angle. Though she knew she wasn’t supposed to, she picked him up and moved him to the sidewalk. Slowly she made her way trying not to fall in front of all the people. Her skinny arms were not meant for heavy lifting like this. Even though he was so skinny you could see his ribs, it was still more than she was used to lifting. As soon as she was out of the road she dropped him and collapsed. Panting and crying from the strain she was at a loss of what to do. Her job required only typing skills. Not healing skills. She had gone to school extra years unlike most girls but not to continue healing classes. She needed the typing skills to be the official secretary of His Majesty, Ivan Rigshue. Now on the sidewalk she knew the basic healing of minor cuts and scratches but not for this extreme kind of accidents. Now that she was out of the road people were much friendlier. “Please! Help me! Help the boy! Help! He’s going to DIE!” A young girl of about twenty years came over. She wore a light blue skirt and a white button blouse. It was the outfit of a commoner, a baker to be exact.
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Kemay regained consciousness and surveyed the mess. Her whole room was in disarray. She remembered what had happened. She also remembered that Andy was gone. He was running away. Oh God! She thought to herself, what have I done? Why did I tell him to run? He’ll never get away from the enforcers! She sobbed out loud and immediately regretted it. The pain in her ribs was excruciating. She wanted to cry but she knew if she did the pain would knock her out again. Once again she tried to stand up. This time once she was up, she stayed up. She called upon her healing skills and started at the bruise on her face. She put her hand up to her cheek and whispered a few words and the bruise disappeared. She repeated that process on all of her bruises and her broken ribs. She was now extremely exhausted and could hardly keep her eyes open. She made her way around all the rubble in her room to the door. She needed to reach the other children. She put her hand on the doorknob and tried to twist but she couldn’t muster up enough strength. That was all she could handle. She was exhausted and worried about Andy and the other children. She sank to the floor with salty hot tears running down her cheeks. Tears of frustration, worry, sadness and most of all just plain old tiredness.
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The young baker girls name was Lana. She had long shiny and wavy brown hair piled up on top of her head in a cascading mess of a bun. Her nose was a small one that pointed slightly up. She had a light sprinkling of pale freckles under her eyes and along her nose. Her dark chocolate brown eyes were bright and gleaming. She had perfectly arched eyebrows and a perfect complexion. She had a light natural tan that made her eyes stand out all the more. “Can you help me?” Miss Marsh asked the girl pleadingly.
“I think so,” Lana replied
“Oh thank you! You have no idea how much that would mean to me!” Lana picked up the bloody boy with surprising ease. Baking and kneading dough all day took muscle. The two women walked back to a bakery not far from where she had collapsed. Miss Marsh opened the door for her and was met with a rush of warm sweet smelling air. Inside the bakery was warm and quiet. The smell of fresh baked bread was almost more then Miss Marsh could handle. The floor was swept and the wooden counter was clean with a small cash register on top. The shop was dim like it was supposed to be lit by the missing sun. Yet the whole room seemed to glow with an unseen light.
“Come in the back! I’ll heal him in the oven room.” Lana carried the boy passed the counter and into a little room in the back. The room was filled with wood burning ovens. There was a little wooden bench between the two rows of ovens that surrounded them on both sides. She set the boy on the bench and said wait here. Lana left the room and came back with a few bundles of herbs, a bowl, a mashing spoon and a jug of water. She put a pinch of this and a pinch of that, poured water in and started mashing. As she mashed she sung a little tune.
“What song is that?” asked Miss Marsh
“Oh. It’s a little song that my mother would sing to me every night before bed.”
“It sounds very lovely. What is it called?”
“Um…I don’t know,” she replied. “Open his mouth will you?” Miss Marsh moved to the boy and opened his mouth. Lana took a small metal spoon from a pocket on her dress and scooped a small amount out of the bowl. Then, she tipped the spoon over into the boys mouth and went back to the bowl for more. “Make him swallow it.” She said sounding like she was off in her own little world. After he had swallowed she dumped more of the paste into his mouth. After repeating this process five or six times he choked and coughed and his eyes fluttered open.
There is still more that I have typed but not too much I want to keep working on it though! So, yes I know it is rough but, as I said I want to keep working on it and make it better!
 frdee · Fri Jun 15, 2007 @ 08:49pm · 3 Comments |
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