A Whole New World [Mylee]

Will
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A Whole New World [Mylee] Feb 25, 2014 17:38:21 GMT -5

Post by Will on Feb 25, 2014 17:38:21 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

I stand at the end of the conveyor belt. How much more tedious could this job get? Watching buckets of oil be carried across the room to me so that I may transport these buckets to the warehouse. From there they will be shipped out to the Capitol. Obviously I don't stand in front of the conveyor belt all day. There's a line. I'm currently in the front, watching this silver pale of dark and flammable liquid drifts toward me. So boring.

I try to think of the positives. This pays for my family. It keeps my sisters alive. It helps my mother's stress levels stay down. After all, we all work most of the day. And that barely puts food on the table. I'm frankly surprised that we even have a house. If you can call it that.

I reach out to the pale and snatch it up. I hug it close to my chest, because I don't want it to spill. That's happened before, and the Peacekeepers don't take it lightly. I walk steadily to the doorway that will lead me to the warehouse, making sure not to slosh oil onto my shirt. I turn the corner and start to proceed down the hall when suddenly I collide with something solid. Before I can even crinkle my face in shock, before anything even registers, mind you, the bucket slips out of my grasp and plummets to the ground. It slams into the ground and for a moment I think it lands on it's bottom, which would mean no spill! But then I feel the heaviness of the black liquid splash out of the pale and onto my clothes.

I can barely keep from screaming out in anger. I instead look up and glare into the eyes of the person who stood in my way. This incident will set my family back at least a week in terms of money.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

TEMPLATE BY ZOË

Sorry this took so long Mylee! And sorry about the bad quality, I'm not too good at introductions.

v Rook's French painting of Kou v

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Feb 26, 2014 23:18:54 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2014 23:18:54 GMT -5

H E I D I B I S O N

I leave at the brink of dawn, before any of the small faces of the household awake to pelt me with questions. Where are you going? Can we come with you? No. The answer was always no. I never gave them an explanation or an answer that was clear. I always hid it behind dirty waters, for it did the trick of burying things deeper and deeper and deeper. Sometimes it took things further than you planned, and then you were nothing but covered in the dirt. If this dirt was accumulating, I would already by six feet under.

But now I am not confined by the dirt that covers my head. I am confined by nothing but the pale pink sky overhead and the ground beneath my feet. I have no idea as to where I am headed, but that’s the best part of it. You always end up in some place you don’t expect, and it always brings a new adventure with it. I also didn’t expect for the cold that bit at my skin, but that was my fault. You would think since we’ve been in the middle of a harsh winter for the last few months I would expect for the cold and maybe even prepare for it, but I haven’t. I’m standing out in the cold without a jacket, only a thin shirt standing between my torso and the freezing air.

The roads are not crowded at this hour, given a person or two here and there. The chimneys of the factories sleep silently, the fumes that usually crowd the sky like a dragon deep in its slumber. The doors always seem to be slightly ajar, like no one ever checks to make sure they’re closed completely. No one’s ever here this early, and so my tiptoeing steps change into a normal pace. There’s no one here now, so I am free to run or jump or just sit. I am free to do whatever I would like. I start off in excitement, leaping and climbing and laughing like a young child, because at heart, I still am. I still believe in fairytales and happy endings and adventures.

I eventually begin to tire, my leaps not rising quite as high nor my sprints as fast as they were before. The sun was also beginning to force its way higher into the sky, signaling that people would be arriving soon. I should’ve taken its advice and fled for the door while I had the chance, but of course, I ignored it. It wasn’t until I heard voices immediately outside the door that I realized I was in trouble, and I frantically began to search for a hiding spot.

I’m surprised it gives me the cover it does, and with each shadow that passes, I suck my breath in a little tighter. Eventually, such a time lapses between the shadows that I’m given the illusion that everyone has gone on break or something of the sort. So I waste no time in darting out from my spot behind the boxes and dash for the door I entered through, not noticing the girl coming my way at a decently rapid pace. I never meant to slam into her or cause any trouble; I never did. But somehow, I always found some way to drag myself (and usually someone else) into it. It was a trait I possessed, like a trouble radar that I’m drawn to.

I draw back as soon as I feel myself hit her, the oil in her bucket splashing about, mostly over her, but a little does manage to find its way to my clothes. I cannot apologize fast enough, my words blurring into each other in a messy sort of way. “I am so sorry, I mean so ridiculously sorry. Oh, what have I done? Uh, can I help you in any way?” I finally slow my words to a halt, watching as her emotions seem to twist from shock to anger. I don’t blame her in the slightest, because really, there’s no one to blame here but me.

I look down at my feet in shame before mumbling out, “I know this isn’t really the time for introductions, but I’m Heidi.” I hope she can’t see the embarrassed flush that has fallen upon my cheeks, and I certainly hope she can’t read the shame behind my words. But either way, this is an adventure, even if it’s not the kind I imagined.

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Mar 4, 2014 19:41:02 GMT -5

Post by Will on Mar 4, 2014 19:41:02 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

The girl can't apologize enough. Oil spills from the bucket and flows across the floor slowly but surely. As if it was a troop invading enemy territory. I quickly drop to the floor, breaking eye contact with the girl who has now stopped talking. I tilt the bucket upright before too much spills out. Half the bucket is gone on the floor, though. People will have to walk through this hallway to get to the warehouse and I have just stopped the process! I'm going to be put in prison! Or worse! Made an avox! I'll be shipped off with those oil buckets to the Capitol where they'll cut out my tongue and make me serve them!

I have so many mixed emotions. Shock, fear, anger, disgust, humiliation. They're all valid and all taking and losing control of my brain faster than you can snap your fingers. The girl introduces herself as Heidi and I look up at her with an expression that is probably a mixture of exasperation and confusion. Why would she be introducing herself when I'm kneeling down in oil that I have just spilled all over an important hallway. I'm going to get in so much trouble for this. I slowly stand and look into her eyes, not sure what to say. So I say,

"I'm Etra," and then miserably extend my hand for her to shake it.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

TEMPLATE BY ZOË

Last Edit: Mar 4, 2014 20:16:36 GMT -5 by Will

v Rook's French painting of Kou v

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Mar 26, 2014 22:09:52 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Mar 26, 2014 22:09:52 GMT -5

H E I D I B I S O N

I’ve never been one who’s known for staying balanced, and the clumsiness I have just exhibited proves it. The oil topples from her bucket to the floor beneath my feet, and my apologies continue on for far longer than they should have. The words are a jumbled mess, and I’ve realized how almost everything I say is nothing more than that. It’s mixed up and twisted and tied together with a regretful look, and that’s what everyone’s come to accept me as. “The girl who messed up again.” I knew that’s how my family had felt, because time after time I had fallen flat on my face, and no one helped me up. All they did was stand around and talked about how I had failed, right within my earshot. They would then walk away and pretend they couldn’t see me, and after lying there a while I would pull myself to a sitting position and mull over the things they had said. Those words hurt, because I always thought I was doing the right thing. I really did. I believe in rash decisions and first instinct, in spur of the moment choices and improvisations.

I had talked to Shadow about these things a lot, because he never seemed to judge me like the rest did. They judged him too, for his fears and such, so we always shared that common point of empathy. We would sit in the dark and I would ramble on through the early hours of morning, complaining about each and every one of our siblings that had done or said anything negative to me in the last twenty four hours. He always would nod in understanding, waiting until I was completely done talking to give me his input. His advice was always simple, and I often wished it was. I could only hope that I would have to answer a question with a yes or no answer, but more often than not, it was more complex than that. When you’re younger, people are content with simple answers. They’re fine with yes, no, and maybe. But as you grow older, people start wanting you to expand. The simple answers you’ve been taught are required to be more complex, with definition and meaning behind them. I’ve never been good at staying with an opinion. I always find a side of the story that seems to be better than the one I was just sticking with, so I switch. People tell me that’s bad, that you have to stay with what you originally start out with, but I don’t understand why. Why would I stay wrong when I know the right answer sits right in front of my nose?

So I stand in front of this girl (who now has a name), and I’m required to get my story straight. She seems honest enough to trust with the truth, but then again, I’ve never been good at first impressions. However, I am one for impulsive decisions, and now seems like a good time to make one. “So, I guess I’m liable to tell you what exactly I’m doing here since I assume you know I don’t really work here or anything.” I fidget with my shirt a bit, twisting it around my finger as I figure out where to start my little adventure. I take a deep breath and began to exhale, putting the line of today’s events into a timeline that would be comprehendible to someone who wouldn’t be involved in this situation had the current predicament not arisen. “I’m part of big family, really, there’s a lot of us kids, and I decided to leave the house and take a walk, but I had to do it early so that none of them would ask to come with me.” I hoped I was still holding her attention, but regardless of whether I did or not, I continued. “I’ve been over to this part of the District quite a bit, but I’ve never actually looked around thoroughly. So it was dark and I couldn’t really tell the shape of things, but I thought this place looked rather run down and abandoned. Obviously, I was wrong.” I let out a quiet laugh, because I found the whole situation amusing. She didn’t really seem to see my point of view, though.

“And so it was early in the morning and I was doing nothing more than looking around. I didn’t take anything or mess anything up, I promise. I was just enjoying myself.” She still hasn’t said anything, but she’s still watching, so I assume she’s still paying attention. “I was quite taken aback when people started to flow in to go about their day’s work, and so I panicked. I hid among the boxes in the back and waited until the room was clear to run out. I guess I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going.” I gesture to the oil on the floor, and I’m sure a blush of embarrassment has crossed my cheeks. “I really am sorry, Etra, and I’ll make it up to you in any way that I can.” I don’t really want to stick around much longer, in fact, I would love to be on my way now, but I can’t just leave her here. Well I could, but I shouldn’t. And who knows, I mean, in stories don’t you make friends in the most unlikely of places?

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Apr 9, 2014 17:41:56 GMT -5

Post by Will on Apr 9, 2014 17:41:56 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

Wow, this girl can ramble. is what I think as she goes on about how she's sorry and why she was here. I stare silently at her, contemplating whether or not I buy it. It sounds plausible, but the way she won't stop talking about it makes me doubt the story. She doesn't look like a person that would lie, but she also doesn't look like someone who particularly exceeds in anything, like she claims.

As she wraps up her story with, "I'll make it up to you in anyway I can. I start to think that she's probably trustworthy. But instead of saying, something like, "I forgive you." or "I believe you., I ask,

"Did I catch your name?"

Maybe she's someone I could get to know a little better. I don't really have any friends.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

TEMPLATE BY ZOË

v Rook's French painting of Kou v

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Apr 15, 2014 12:40:43 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Apr 15, 2014 12:40:43 GMT -5

H E I D I B I S O N

A name is a simple thing, yet it holds more importance and beauty than almost anything else. A first name says something unique, something about yourself that can’t be spoken by any other words. The last name gives a history, a line of fathers and brothers and sisters and daughters and mothers, all holding to each other dearly. Heidi— rash, impulsive. “That girl doesn’t have a good head on her shoulders, she’ll never stay focused unless she gets herself together. But I like my name, I like the way it fits me, as it should. Bison—struggling, lost. “They must be having trouble now, after losing Shadow like that.”

So when this girl—no stop it, she has a name now—Etra, she asks me for my name again. My words falter for a bit before I reply in a rather rushed manner, “I’m Heidi. Heidi Bison.” I wonder what she thinks of when she hears the two mashed together, the eccentric, rash girl who’s lost a younger brother. Who would think much of that? If I was to stand in any other position on the matter, I would blow myself off with a grain of salt, a guilt-ridden girl with nothing to lose. That didn’t mean much, no matter whose side you looked at it from.

But her name, her name stood out in my mind. I didn’t have a last name yet, so I could really only figure out one side of the story. Etra was a nice name, a fitting one for her in my opinion. It reminded me of the place in which we stood, the oil about our feet the same color as the hair that fell about her shoulders. Her name was serious, like the solemn look that sat upon her face. Of course, I’m sure she had things to worry about, but so did I. However, I chose to ignore the responsibilities for the moment, instead turning to adventures in the morning sun. But she wasn’t amused with that, nor my clumsiness. I didn’t really blame her for that either, for I would do the same. I would do a lot of things if I wasn’t myself; if I wasn’t this clumsy, irrational girl only stumbling through dark hallways.

The ground beneath my feet was flooded with the black substance, and instinct made me pick up my foot in disgust. I watch it for a few more moments before the irrational side of my mind begins to kick in again. A smirk crosses my face as I motion to the door just behind us, “What do you say we blow this place and go do something fun?” This wouldn’t be anything unusual for me, as more often than not I was somewhere I shouldn’t be. I didn’t know how she would react, however, as she didn’t really strike me as one for unnecessary adventures—or any adventures for that matter. But I would try to get her to step out of here, as trouble lay in our way no matter where we went—or stayed. I began to ramble again, letting the words spill out of my mouth faster than the oil did from the bucket, “I mean, we’re probably going to get in much more trouble if we stay, so why don’t we just go? I’m sure we could find somewhere to hide out until this whole thing blows over.”

I can tell she’s not quite convinced, and I don’t blame her. If someone comes in to cause you trouble (even though I didn’t mean for it to happen), and then suggests you get into more trouble, I would think they’re crazy too. But this requires a mutual trust, and I trust her. However, I have reason to believe she doesn’t trust me.

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Apr 22, 2014 6:20:48 GMT -5

Post by Will on Apr 22, 2014 6:20:48 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

Everything. Everything this girl does sets of red flags in my head. The way she jumped away from the oil in disgust, as if she's never worked a day in her life. The way she stares at me after I tell her my name. Then, when she asks me to run away from here. And do what?! I want to ask. But I don't, because it will just keep me standing in a puddle of oil longer, that I should be cleaning up. I look down at the oil and think. I really need to start cleaning this up. I'll be punished if this stays on the floor any longer than this has to. Heck, I'll be punished if they find out I did this! I'll be punished so hard I'd have to stay home the next few days because I can barely move from all the cuts and bruises I got! I cannot let that happen. If I end up staying home then everything will go to hell. My family will not have enough money to provide for all of us and we will spiral back into poverty! We are already poor enough as is! Our family economy is so fragile that nearly any disturbance can break it up and demolish it. I can't get caught for this!

But it's the right thing to do. Isn't that funny. Morals. The right thing to do is clean up my mess, and then get punished for it. Maybe the right thing to do would be to clean up my mess, but it would be overcompensation, at least in my mind, to be whipped for spilling oil. It's a more extreme version of crying over spilled milk! So maybe I'll get a free pass this time. This one time that I decide to do something I shouldn't. Maybe if I do run off with this girl, with Heidi, who seems like the kind of girl who knows a thing or two. A thing or two about how to get out of trouble. Or at least, how to get out of the trouble she deserves. Maybe running from this would be in my best interest. I look up to Heidi. Her name is Heidi Bison. Her face is like a stone. So strong and defined, yet it shows that she has an inner fun and peppy self. So maybe her face is more like a crystal. Beautiful, but still solid, on both the inside and the out.

The name Bison sounds familiar. I don't recall why though. I've never met a person with the last name of Bison before, so it should not be familiar. But I blow this off, just like I'm about to blow off work, for the first time in forever. But this is okay, because it is in the best interest for my family.

"Let's go." I say plainly. I'm not excited about this, yet I still want to see where it leads me.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

TEMPLATE BY ZOË

v Rook's French painting of Kou v

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A Whole New World [Mylee] May 3, 2014 13:40:54 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on May 3, 2014 13:40:54 GMT -5

H E I D I B I S O N

Many times I had tried to take my siblings out on the adventures I created for myself. However, they never were very good companions. It wasn’t necessarily their fault, for they didn’t mean any harm by their constant jabbering. They found it necessary to tell me every small detail of everything they deserved, and it seemed to almost taint the serenity that fell upon the horizon of the rising sun. It was always a contest with myself to see how long I could go without blowing up in a fit of frustration, taking their hand, and storming back home. I would leave them there with a warning, leaving the impression upon their mind that if they spoke a word of any of this to our mother and father, I would have it out for them. And indeed I would. These little journeys were about all I had in terms of things that made me happy, and anything that would stop them would be nothing short of disastrous.

However, not all of my brothers and sisters made horrible sidekicks. Shadow would accompany me every once and a while, and it almost seemed as if he enjoyed the silence as much as I did. Of course, his silence was more out of fear than it was awe, but the reason didn’t matter. It was simply the mere thought of silent observance that made me happy, and everyone I tell this to marks it as strange because I am not, to put it lightly, a quiet person. Like my siblings, I enjoy the murmur in crowded rooms, the amble conversation between complete strangers. This doesn’t mean that I don’t like stepping back from all of that to watch the quiet things. Because, if you really think about it, the quiet things are the ones that speak the loudest. The way the leaves whisper in the wind, or the bird’s song, it’s all saying something important, even if we can’t understand the language it’s spoken in. So, that’s why I started on the early morning adventure, these serene escapades. I do it for the quiet conversations that can only happen in the early morning, when the chattering world is still slumbering away, completely oblivious to the song that nature sings.

Of course, I have no idea what kind of companionship Etra will bring, but I have reason to assume she’ll be nice company. She certainly doesn’t strike me as the rambling type, for if anyone’s been rambling in the last ten minutes, it’s been me. Maybe for once I’ll be able to enjoy silence while still basking in the companionship of another. Maybe the air that will surround us won’t seem so lonely, as it does when I wander in the early mornings. For even though the silence is beautiful, it seems so sad. It’s a trembling beauty, seemingly lost in the sunrise that overtakes the dawn. It reminds me of myself, of the silence that fills my heart. Maybe all these adventures have been in hope of filling the silence with a noise that demands to be heard. I will be heard, whether it’s by the trees or the people that fill the streets. Someone—or something, will hear the words that fall from my lips, a whisper that demands the same attention as a booming voice above a chattering crowd. Because sometimes, it’s not the loudest things that make the most impact.

“Let’s go.” Her words take me aback, as I was expecting to hear phrases of protest, not words of acceptance. I give her a quizzical look for a moment, as if I was expecting her to change her mind. But she doesn’t say anything else, and the fire that lights only when the tastes of adventure are just out of my grasp begins to burn, and I, once again, am longing for the adventure that lays just outside the door behind which we are standing. Of course, the current problem was that I didn’t remember which way I had come in, or for that matter, how we were supposed to get out. I turn to her, pausing a moment before rubbing the back of my neck and looking at the floor, almost ashamed to ask, “Do you think—could you lead us out of here? I don’t remember the exact way I came in, and besides, I suppose you know this place a lot better than I do.”

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Jun 7, 2014 12:20:01 GMT -5

Post by Will on Jun 7, 2014 12:20:01 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

"Uhm..."

That's all that leaves my mouth. I stare at this girl, who has asked me to guide her out of extreme punishment. I will be a victim as well if we get caught. The right thing to do is to clean this mess up. Nearly every single part of my body is telling me to get back down on the ground and mop up that mess. But "nearly" isn't enough. I think that punishment for this crime will put me out. Put me out of working condition for a long time. It will nearly kill me family. And who ever has any good stories who followed the rules all the time? Nobody, that's who. I look around. Any second now a person will walk around that corner and discover us and it will only be downhill from there. I gaze back into the girl's eyes, seeing how true and pure she is. Eyes are not always truthful, but they're as good a lead as I can get.

"Follow me." are the only words that exit my mouth.

I walk around the oil that is currently soaking through my pants, staining them and my skin with the darkest shades of the color black. I get to a corner and peak around. We could make it to the door on the opposite side of the room if we acted natural. If we acted like we belonged. Like we weren't trying to escape. I look back to see if Heidi is following me before I move out.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

TEMPLATE BY ZOË

v Rook's French painting of Kou v

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A Whole New World [Mylee] Oct 2, 2014 23:55:47 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2014 23:55:47 GMT -5

H E I D I B I S O N

And I’ve taken steps before but none similar to this, for usually I’m in charge of my own path and that of others, throwing light upon the world rather than cowering in the dark, therefore making this undefined trust something I’m hesitant to toss out. Because if there’s a word to define me (and yet the thought seems awfully dull, for I don’t wish to be defined by anything at all), it would not be follower, in fact, I’d go as far as to say I was a leader.

Whether or not my family thought the same way was unknown to me, however. For as much as I did love the ones I shared common blood with, they were weak, apt to change opinions on the slightest hint of a breeze, whereas I was firm and unyielding, clinging to my original statement until it sunk completely. This process of thought had backlash of course, for this meant I sank often with my ideals, and despite the damage it had caused, I was surprisingly alright with the results.

In the end they didn’t really matter, for no matter how you lived life we all ended up buried six feet under, so regardless of whether one would sink or swim, they would still come to rest at the bottom of the ocean. I suppose we should learn how to swim—maybe then we’d all live just a little bit longer.

“Follow me.”

(Maybe this was my lifeline.)

And though I know nothing more than the name behind the words I do not take a moment’s hesitation before tagging along, keeping pace with her second by second; silence ticking by with each passing minute. There’s not much to say, yet saying nothing at all seems not quite right, and so I flicker to thoughts of simple conversation that I wasn’t near as likely to mess up.

“So—”

But something in the air makes me stop at this, for some sense of urgency has fallen over us and despite the loss of reality that comes with each and every adventure, I finally realize that we are nowhere near out of the woods. Each step I take seems to cause ripples upon still water.

We weave through halls and step through doorways and it almost seems as if we aren’t making much progress, yet I don’t dare to say otherwise, for she knows much more than I. It was as if we were caught in a labyrinth, with our allotted time dwindling until the moment of our demise, and if possible, I would postpone this to the best of my ability.

This required a clear mind, which happened to be a thing I did not possess at the current time.

For my mind was on a constant replay of that which I had gained and lost, from the scenes of early morning spent in solitude, beautiful sunrises painted across a serene sky turning into the bloody trees that had been Shadow’s temporary grave. And though I willed these memories to fade, for the colors to blur one to another they never did, never paused or stopped and at times it was a blessing, and at others it was a curse.

I promised to remember, but I wanted nothing more than to forget.

Now my thoughts are consumed again by the worst of these, at the time in which I should be completely focused on the task at hand. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, for my parents often blamed my lack of words or coherent string of thoughts on an inability to pay attention, when this couldn’t be further from the truth. It was the minute details that caught my attention rather than the broad spectrum in which they expected to entertain my interest.

It’s this broad spectrum that leaves me feeling lost as I plod behind the girl whose name fits too well for the place in which we wander. And I’d love to ask her a million questions, those about her name and her life and the people she loved and the things she hated, yet I’ve been told life is all about timing, and this seems like anything but the right time (but I don’t think the time will ever be quite right).

“So, what’s life like for you.”

I suppose I didn’t expect for her to answer, and so I filled the silence by mentally answering my own question, pretending that my opinion was wanted and my thoughts were listened upon with a fair ear. This was the only way I could speak for myself, even if there was no one around to hear.

(“I’m okay I guess, but life’s taken away what I have and what I had to look forward to, and despite my siblings being oblivious to the whole thing, I suppose I’m doing alright.”)

But I was never okay, and I knew this as well as almost anyone else.

For these adventures, these escapades to a world in which I had no business was the only means of escape I found decent, and at times I put more stock in them than I did in the four walls I called “home.” I had a house, yes, a structure that gave me shelter in times of storm, but it was not the home in which people spoke of love and warmth.

The floors were still stone cold in the heat of summer, bare feet tiptoeing across planks of wood that screamed with the same pain that clouded our hearts, yet no one was willing to break the silence and confess to it. And even though two years have passed we’re still suspended in the void of thin air, with nothing to cling to in times of distress besides each other, and even then security was never permanent, for often we were crumbling without realization of such a deep matter, for we all put on our porcelain faces with smiles plastered wide, eyes bright and affectionate to hide any deep emotion within.

We’re all hiding something, only some are better at it than others.

So despite Etra’s answer (or lack thereof), I pretend that maybe she wasn’t listening, or that like my own thoughts hers were trailing as well, and past that I pretended that the silence that hangs heavily over our heads isn’t due to fault on my own part, but that of others whose name happens to be the only thing I know.

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Will
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A Whole New World [Mylee] Jan 18, 2015 12:54:59 GMT -5

Post by Will on Jan 18, 2015 12:54:59 GMT -5

ETRA PETROL

"Change your thoughts and change your world."
- Norman Vincent Peale

"So, what’s life like for you?"
This isn't a question I was expecting to hear while I was trying to escape being persecuted for spilling oil. This question shocks me so much that I look over at Heidi, which causes me to topple over because I wasn't looking where I was going. I hit the ground hard, but luckily, my hands broke the fall. I quickly stumble to get up and I look back as I do. And what I see scares me so badly I gasp.
We've been leaving footprints.
We can't go home, to our houses. We can barely even go anywhere without them knowing we were there! This is falling apart. I knew I shouldn't have fled. I should've taken my punishment and then it all would've been over fast. Now I've made a mistake. Now I have to fix that mistake or even worse things are going to happen.
How can we get out of this situation? There are no hoses here. There isn't anything to wash ourselves off in. I look at Heidi and I tell her, pointing at the oily footprints,
"We're in trouble."
I hope she knows what we should do. Because I've never had to cover up a mistake. I don't usually make them. And when I do, I take responsibility for them. But I can't now. Peacekeepers don't forgive. They'll know I tried to flee and then realized I couldn't. I really hope Heidi knows the answer.
Because I don't.

"I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takes
Til I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change
And break away"
- Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway.

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v Rook's French painting of Kou v