January 10 - 16

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January 10 - 16

Post by Adley☮ on Sun Jan 11, 2015 12:54 am

The challenge is to write an action/romance story, based off of your favorite novel. Minimum 300 words, no max. Go for as long as you like! The catch, you must make yourself the main character. Either yourself as you are now, or a version of you that you wish you were.

Challenge by Shay.


Last edited by Adley☮ on Fri Jan 16, 2015 6:33 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Divergent

Post by Melody on Tue Jan 13, 2015 10:00 pm

Divergent



“Mel.”
I turn at the sound of my name. I hold a piece of cloth over a cut in my lip, gently nursing it as I walk towards the Pit. I was matched against Tris. I won, due mainly to my height advantage. For a Stiff, she fights good.
“Yes, Kyle?” I say, wincing as the cut in my lip flares up, further reddening the cloth.
He  walks up to me, his usual crooked grin plastered on his face. “Nice fight today.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. My head pounds. I am not in the mood for idle chit chat.
He runs his hands through his dark hair. “Listen, I was wondering, since you're new here, if you'd like to join us in sort of an... initiation?”
Kyle is Dauntless-born. I am among the few transfers, originally from Amity.
“Okay,” I say. I have barely been passing training—I need all the acceptance I can get.
He gently grabs my arm and leads me towards the hall. I tense slightly at his touch, although I don't know why. Soon we arrive by a group of initiates. Most are Dauntless-born, but I recognize a few who are not. Tris catches my eye—she is bloodied and swollen, as am I. She doesn't acknowledged me.
“What's a Stiff doing here?” I hear someone ask. A boy with a thick metal ring through his nose.
“She just saw that guy get stabbed in the eye, Gabe,” says a dark-skinned boy standing next to her. Uriah, I think. “Give her a break, okay?”
Gabe shrugs and gives a disproving look, but turns his attention elsewhere.
No one has noticed me. I am fine with that.
A few more people join the group. Soon we go through a back door—usually locked—and ascend a long flight of stairs. Kyle walks beside me the entire way. When I emerge, sunlight strikes my face. A pang of longing fills me as I remember the sunny days and green fields back home. My old home—Dauntless is my home now. The sun  is the same, but that is where the similarities end. There is no grass, only harsh pavement.
The train tracks are not far from here. I hear the horn pierce the air. My heart begins to race—I am unsure whether it is because of the adventure to be had, or the fact Kyle is now holding my hand.
The crowd slowly thins as people jump for the train. Kyle releases my hand. We can jump only one at a time. I land in the train with a thud. I have done this, or similar things now, enough to know how to land. The first time I sprained my wrist.
Kyle jumps, making with with inches to spare. He slides over and sits beside me.
“Do you know where we're going?” I shout to be heard over the wind.
“I have no idea. It's supposed to be a surprise, I think.”
We bump along in silence for the next while. Somewhere along the trip, our hands find each other again.
“Everybody ready?” someone shouts.
The train doesn't slow, but I know we are supposed to jump. Again, one at a time, the car's occupants slowly dissipate.
I look behind me. The Hub stands hazy in the distance. We walk down Michigan Avenue. The street is completely bare; it has been this way for years. Ahead of us lies the Hancock building. The tallest building this side of the bridge.
The glass doors to the building are broken—we step through them without bothering to turn the rust knobs. A rickety elevator greets us inside. We all squeeze in, pressing together in a way that reminds me of sardines. Mother loved them.
I push all thoughts of her and Amity out of my head. I am Dauntless now.
I can feel heat rushing to my cheeks as Kyle presses closer to make room for the last initiate.
“Cozy,” he says in his teasing voice.
I laugh, hoping I don't sound awkward.
When we reach the top, floor one hundred, everyone gets out. I feel a sudden sadness that the trip is over as Kyle moves away. I try to concentrate on what we will be doing. I am on the hundredth floor of an abandoned building with a pack of Dauntless. It won't be boring, that much I know.
Someone retrieves a ladder, setting it so we can climb to the very top of the roof. I don't know how, but I find myself going first. I see a long cable attached to a sturdy metal pole. It fades into the distance. My heart sinks when I see the harness attached to it.
“Amity is going first!” a male voice calls out.
Two boys, one of them Kyle, strap me into the harness. I want to leave, but I can't. If I back down now, I will be seen as weak. I am not weak.
“Be careful,” Kyle says with a wink. And lets go.
I suddenly doubt he has any feelings whatsoever towards me. He must be some sort of sadist, I decide.
I want to scream. But I can't. The wind presses against my skin; I wonder if it is going to crush me. I refuse to open my eyes.  I am sure if I did, the wind would tear them from my body.
After what feels like an eternity, I slow down. A moment passes, and I stop. I dangle just before the edge of a two story building. I undo my belt and swing, landing with a foot to spare. I slide my harness off the cable, making room for the next victim—er, initiate.
I sit and wait. Soon a loud, wailing sound pierces the air. Uriah stops short, just as I had. I help him out of the sling.
“That... That... Was...”
“Fun,” I finish. I guess that was not what he was going to say. “When can we do it again?”
He gives me a dirty look. I turn away as he walks to the edge of the building and wretches.
He has recovered by the time the next person comes. Tris.
“Hi,” I mumble.
She doesn't respond. I think she is still soar I beat her. It was an unfair fight, really. Eric seems to like that.
Soon, another person comes flailing down towards us. Then another. And another. Within the next half hour, everyone stands on the roof beside me. A round of clapping an congratulations springs up.
“Now what?” I say, laughing.
“Mel, are you seriously saying you enjoyed that?” Kyle is laughing just as hard as me.
“Yes,” I lie.
He side hugs me and plants a kiss on my cheek. It was done in a friendly way, but I can't help the flush of color from rising on my face. I hope no one notices . As everyone begins walking to the trap door on the top of the building, he drapes his arm over my neck. I can't help but feel awkward. I enjoy his company, but in front of all these people... I am supposed to be Dauntless; I usually am. But when Kyle is around, I become giddy.
“Hey, Mel, watch your step,” I hear him say. I realize my foot is dangling over the open hole of the trap door.
“Thanks,” I say. I chide myself for allowing my daydreams to run wild. Especially about him.
Everyone heads back to the Pit.
“Want to get some lunch?” Kyle asks.
“Sure. What do you want?”
“Well, it's not like they really have any options. A hamburger, I guess.”
“That sounds good,” I say.
“Did they have burgers in Amity?”
“No,” I answer. “We had to eat this icky green stuff because no one wanted to harm a cow. I came this close to it though.” I hold my hand up with my finger and thumb less than a half inch apart to prove my point.
Kyle has always shown an interest in Amity. I sometimes wonder if he should have chose it instead. I wonder what his test results where? I never got mine. By a technicality, I was tested by my aunt Chloe, an Erudite. Both she and my mother were born into Amity. Chloe said I was Candor. Perhaps she should have been; she can't lie, not properly. I never saw my results—she wouldn't let me see the computer.
“What is Amity like?” Kyle asks. His voice has lowered to little over a whisper.
“Pretty much what you heard about it,” I say. “Happy, calm, peaceful people living in perfect harmony.”
“Then why did you leave?”
His questions takes me aback. “I've never really though about it, I guess. It was boring—I needed more adventure.”
He sighs. “I know what you mean.”
“But you're Dauntless-born! How can you ­not have enough adventure?”
“I don't mean that,” he says. “I mean I understand what it's like to live somewhere where you can't do what you really want.”
The lineup for lunch begins. We join in.
“Then why did you chose Dauntless?” I ask.
“Maybe we should finish this conversation after lunch,” he says. He is looking at something behind me. I turn, and see Eric about twenty yards away. He couldn't have heard what we said, but just seeing him sends chills down my spine. I was there when he made Christina hang over the bridge. Just thinking about it brings to mind all kinds of words I can't use.
“Yeah,” I agree.
Most of the tables are taken, so we end up sitting with Will, Christina, Al, and Tris. I don't know any of them very well, but they seem nice. Al is perhaps a little weird, but that is probably because of the nights I spend awake, listening to his crying.
Kyle is the only person I've really made friends with. I always feel nervous around him, but at the same time, he's comfortable. I can talk to him.
“Hey, Amity,” Christina calls to me from across the table.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Nice hair.”
My hand reflectively goes to my head. My blonde hair is frizzy and standing on end. It normally reaches down to my shoulders, but in its tangle state, it's barely past my ears. I brush it down with my hands.
“I think it looks cute,” Kyle teases.
“Sure,” I say with definite sarcasm.
“Aw, come on, he's right,” Christina says.
The others jokingly nod. Tris seems to be warming up now. I feel bad about the fight. I should apologize. Maybe later.
“Guys, do you realize we have both the first jumper and the first zip-liner her?” says Will. “We're practically among royalty!”
“Yeah, right,” Tris says. I see her roll her eyes.
“It wasn't a big deal, guys,” I say.
Tris nods in affirmation.
“Oh my gosh, seriously?” Christina says, her eyes widening. “I practically had to be thrown down the hole, and I can't even imagine what the zip-lining was like.”
“The worst is starting,” Kyle says. “Once you 'break-the-ice' so to speak, the adrenaline rush pushes out any thoughts of fear.”
“I don't know about you, but I was pretty scared, even after 'breaking-the-ice'” I say.
This causes an eruption of laughter.
The rest of the meal passes quickly. I find myself actually enjoying myself, for once.
“What do you say to getting some more tattoos?” Christina suggests as we rise from the table.
“Sure,” Will says. “What do you want to get?”
“I don't know. I was thinking the Dauntless symbol.”
“I'm up for that,” says Tris.
“Mel, you want to go?” Kyle asks.
I shake my head. “I've never gotten a tattoo, and I don't plan to start now.”
“Why not?” Tris asks. “Are you afraid?”
I can't tell if her tone is friendly, or mean. I suspect some of both.
“No. I just think it's stupid to do something I don't want to do just because everyone else is doing it.”
“She has a point,” Kyle says. “Tattoos are kind of... permanent.”
“That's the whole point,” say Christian, rolling her eyes.
“You guys go ahead,” I say. “I'm going back to the bunks to rest my lip.” I rub the cut. It feels swollen.
The others shrug and leave. Kyle stays behind.
“You're not going?”
“Naw,” he says. “I don't really want a tattoo either.”
“But you already have some,” I say, pointing to band of ink around his upper arm. It's supposed to be barbed wire I think. “What's the big deal about getting more?”
“I grew up in Dauntless. It was practically mandatory. And besides, it hurt.”
I laugh, and he flashes one of his crooked smiles. He looks so cute when he does that. I quickly shake my head as if to clear my thoughts.
“Can I show you something?” he asks suddenly.
“Okay?”
He gently grabs my arm again. We walk towards the door. This time, once we crest the stairs, instead of continuing on the path we had taken previously, he leads me to a different spot on the platform. There is a ladder. We climb it.
Soon, we are on top. It reminds of of the zip-line building, thought not as high. It is windy here. I could probably scream and no one would hear. I think this is what he wanted to show me.
“It's nice up here,” I say.
He nods.
“Hardly anyone else ever comes here. It's a good spot to clear my head.” He gazes out in front of him.
My eyes follow. I can see many of the buildings from here.
“Why did you show me?” I ask. I worry slightly at what the answer will be.
“You're my friend,” he states plainly. He turns to look at me. “Friends can tell each other anything, right?”
“Yeah.” I don't know why, but it feels like something collapses inside me. Just friends? Of course. That is what I want. I think. Yes; it is. It doesn't help the empty feeling any.
“You're my best friend,” he continues. “It's like... I want you to know everything about me.”
Kyle looks me in the eyes.
Normally I would turn away, but this time I don't. “You're my best friend, too,” I tell him.
He smiles. For once, I don't chide myself for my daydreams.
“Do you want to know why I chose Dauntless now?” he asks me.
“Sure.”
We sit down on the edge of the building, something only Dauntless would do at this height.
“When I got my test results back, Dauntless was chosen. But so was Amity. And Abnegation. And Erudite.”
I suddenly wonder if my results were similar.
“Anne, the woman from Candor who tested me, told me not to tell anyone. To chose one, and stick with it. I couldn't imagine what it would do to my parents if I chose anything other than Dauntless.”
I never thought about my parents when I chose. Maybe that's why he got Abnegation. It probably wasn't on my list.
“I'm not sure what my results were,” I say. I explain what happened.
“I think it's called Divergent,” Kyle says when I finish. “Don't ever tell anyone else.”
“Why?”
“I don't know why, but the other day, I went to the tattoo shop to play a trick on Peter—he was scheduled to get a tattoo and I wanted to mess up the ink.”
I smile.
“Anyways, I overheard Tris and Tori talking. Tori's brother was Divergent. The moment the instructors found out... Well, his body was found in the river the next morning.”
“Eric, probably,” I say with a snort. “Sounds like something he would do.”
“I don't think Eric was an instructor then. You have to keep this hidden from everyone.”
There is a long pause in conversation. “I wonder what the second part of training will be like,” I say at length.
“Something horrible, I would guess. They test to on our worst fears. Make you live them.”
I shudder.
“I'm not sure what my fears will be,” he says. “Something to do with drowning and falling probably.”
“I don't know what mine will be either. Providing I make it that far, that is.”
“Your score is improving. You're near the bottom, but you're not in the red.”
“For now,” I add.
“You're going to make it,” he assures me. He picks up and holds my hand. “I know you will.”
“Thanks for believing in me,” I say. “Some of the times with training... I didn't think I would make it. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have.”
“I didn't help you. You did it all on your own.”
“You gave me support,” I insist.
I don't have time to prepare for what happens next. Kyle leans over and kisses me. I think about pulling away, but I can't. It feels so good.
After a few moments, he pulls back. “Sorry,” he said, his gaze falling down on the ground.
“No—it's okay,” I say.
He looks up at me. This time, I kiss him.
After, I rest my head against his chest.
“We should get back, before anyone misses us,” he says softly.
“Mm,” I say in agreement. I don't make any attempt to leave.
We stay this way for the next while. I've lost track of time. It seems to soon when it ends.
When we come back down, and are surrounded by other people again, I expect to feel awkward. But I don't. Instead I feel a sense of pride.
“I should go nurse my lip now,” I say. I didn't feel if before, but now it burns. I wince slightly.
“Okay... See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I say.
“Oh, and Mel?”
“Mmm?”
“I... Uh, good luck with training. I mean, we've gotta keep you in Dauntless now.”
I don't think that was what here was going to say. But I'll take it.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
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Jenn's Story - "The Seer and the Hunter" OUAT

Post by Wlonnie on Thu Jan 15, 2015 2:11 pm

The Seer and the Hunter

There’s something in the fire. I’ve been trying to warn them, to make them listen; but what man in his right mind would pay attention to the ramblings of a cursed girl?
The hunters have me locked in a barred wooden cage about ten feet away from their main camp. A burnt orange fire flickers in the night, warming my captors before they turn into their tents for sleep. There are five of them this time: two older women, two men in their forties, and a younger male apprentice. I’ve been chased long enough to know the hierarchies of the hunters. Elders are considered wise and brutal, while young ones are made to kill in order to cleanse them of weakness. The system is cruel, dark, and evil, yet there is nothing I can do to change it. I am a girl with red hair, a Seer. My race is dying, and if I do not escape this prison, there is nothing that will stop them from taking out my sisters.
Sight is a gift that not many fully understand. To the ordinary person, it is a mystic superpower created for the doings of evil. That’s what they’re told by the hunters, so that’s what they believe. No matter how wrong it is, there are few who question what is widely circulated by those with power over the masses. Women who give birth to red-haired babes are ordered to kill them. Our blood-stained hair is how we are set apart from the rest of the world. To them, it is a sign of death and disease. To us, it is a sign of new life and sacrifice. A Seer is one who warns of the bad and praises the good. We are neutral – ready to help anyone who seeks our help. But somewhere along the line, the message of the Seers was poisoned. Now they scour the earth for the smell of our blood in the ground. None of us are safe.
While the hunters grumble to each other in darkened tones around the fire, I can’t help but know that we’re all in danger. That’s one of the bad things about being a Seer. When I feel something this deeply in my soul, I’m never wrong. Besides, I’d seen faces in the fire. Whatever it was, whoever was watching us . . . I knew that it wouldn’t be long before they made themselves dangerous.
“Wrapped in snow
Fire glows
Evil night
Queen’s last fight”

I murmur the song in a lullaby-styled daze, keeping my voice down so that the hunters won’t hear me. Singing the future like this has always kept me calm. It’s kept me sane. The oppression of the Seers has led many of my sisters into dementia, ripping away the core of what they were and replacing it with a maddening overflow of words and verses. Seers are singers, but when the song controls the Seer, bad things are bound to happen.
“Take my hand
Sweet, strong lad
Run away
While you can
Darkness falls
Danger rings
Hail the beast
The one who sings”

The beast. A chill runs down my spine when I think of the enemy of the Seers, the one who hasn’t stopped trying to claim our powers since the beginning of all. I’ve only ever met him twice, and death followed both encounters.
I don’t notice it, but my chanting has grown louder.
“Fear the dark, for dark’s his name
Hate not love, for hate’s his game
Close your eyes, all you children
Fear the dark, he’s R –“
A shadow moves in front of me, and I scream.
“Shh!” Someone hisses. To my surprise, it’s not the Dark One. Deep brown eyes bore through the bars of my prison, and a hand is reaching in. It’s the boy hunter, the apprentice of those who wish me dead. What has he come to do; stab me?
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply the airs of time.
“You’re not going to kill me,” I murmur, barely believing my words as they fall from my lips. “You want to comfort me. How very inhuman of you,”
He snorts. “Inhuman indeed,” he retracts his hand from the cage. I shouldn’t feel loneliness choking me like a vise, but I do. Hatred from normal people still hurts, even if I’ve known it all my life.
“I don’t believe you’re the bad guy.” He says. “Everyone else is sleeping. If I let you go now, no one will blame me. They let the apprentice guard on the first shift; that’s their loss.”
Darkened fools, darkened lies. Fabled tongues come through his eyes.
Suddenly, I’m not so fond of those eyes anymore. That nut brown stare is like a bad omen.
“You’re lying.” I say calmly. “There’s something else you want. Something . . . something you’re not saying.”
He blinks. When his eyes open again, they’re turned towards the ground. “Letting you go, well,” It’s almost like he’s bit his tongue. “Look, I just want to know what’s in my future. I want to know if there’s anything I should stay away from; what path is the best to take and all that.”
I roll my eyes. “Must you tempt fate?”
“Here,” He digs deep into his pockets, leaving me anxious to know what lies within. Finally, he pulls out a key and brandishes it before me. “I’ll give you this if you’ll let me know what I need to look out for in my future. Deal?”
The cocky air this boy exudes makes me want to ignore him. Still, what good will I be to my sisters as a rotting corpse?
I close my eyes and stretch my arms towards him. My eyes are in my head, unlike some of my sisters, cursed by dark magic to bind their eyes in the palm of their hands. Even so, I am able to see more clearly with my hands outstretched, as though the water of time itself runs through my fingers.
Flashes of light spread across the back of my eyelids. It forms a blurry picture, one I desperately strain to see.
“What is it?” Curiosity rumbles in the boy’s throat.
I move a hand towards him and he stops. He is frozen by my magic. Opening up to my gift – my power – has some nice bonuses.
“Beware of the knowledge
The ghosts of the past
They said that they caved
But nothing much lasts
We look at your secrets
The rot in your heart
The blood on your hands
As you tore them apart
The woman in white
A swan born of snow
Will pay back your deeds
And trample –”

I was going to continue. I really was. But I made the mistake of opening my eyes. And that’s when the fire looked back at me.
Someone rises from the ashes, his eyes as brazen and bright as the destructive fire behind him. Before I know what’s going on, he walks towards me. Worse than the hunters, worse than the bigoted royals who swarm the forests like flies over broken bodies. The Dark One has found me.
“Hunter, unlock the door!” I practically screech at the apprentice, releasing him from my magic. To my surprise, he obeys. His fingers are quick and nimble instead of slow and dragged down with fear. He listens. Something has changed in his countenance; something that has made him respect me.
We run for the woods, but I know that it won’t help. The Dark One has found me. I won’t be getting out of here with my soul intact.
Suddenly, a black cloud appears before the hunter and I, smothering the air around us. It dissipates, and there the Dark One stands. He laughs – that childish, excited, toying laugh that has haunted my nightmares for ages.
“My, my, didn’t your mother ever tell you to stay out of the woods at night?” Gold flecks sparkle in the dim moonlight over his face. His eyes are wide and unnatural, as though they were hand-crafted from metals and magic both ancient and evil. “Oh, that’s right, she didn’t. I killed her.” I feel like someone is shoving iron into the very pathways of my heart. My veins, my blood, my lifeforce – they all seem so heavy and broken in the presence of this being. But I can do something that will buy us time. I just have to choose the right moment.
“How dare you,” I speak between gritted teeth. “How dare you approach me in this manner? My mother was amongst the purest of Seers. When she refused you your wishes, you broke her body with a flick of your hand.”
“You’re right, I did. And unless you want to want to end up the same way, dearie, I expect you to show. Me. The future.” The last words he utters are spoken in a mocking sing-song manner. They erupt into laughter like a flame immersed in oxygen.
There. I’ve got it. The weak spot that will only work once.
I curl up the blood-soaked memories in my hand, positioning my feet for an easy throw. Dropped him, lost him, broke him. She left, clawed out, your heart. He’s there, waiting, sailing. I infuse my words with his sing-song chant. Take a bit of your own medicine, Dark One.
In one fluid motion, I release the memories from my hand and scream at him, “BEGONE, DARK ONE!”
A crackle in the blackness. The Dark One shouts and holds his head, falling to his knees as if the pain is too much to deal with at such an unexpected time. Well, it is. That’s how I planned it. The hunter and I have only minutes before he’ll be back on our trail.
“Hunter, come with me.” I race into the woods again. The young man is close behind me.
“That’s not my name, by the way.” He jokes as we run. He’s obviously trying to make light of the situation – I don’t think he’s ever been exposed to something like this before.
“It’s what I’ve named you.” I reply. “It’s who you are.”
“To be honest with you, I’ve never killed before. Not ever.” He’s quiet for a moment as we run. It’s been some time since I tripped up the Dark One. It won’t be long before our troubles return.
I keep quiet. This boy’s heart is as soft as a freshly-fallen feather. He doesn’t need to know the darkest pieces of his future. They’re better left unmentioned.
“What is your name, hunter?”
“Graham. My name is Graham.” Beware your Queen, the dark unseen. “What’s your name?”
I chuckle. “My name is of little importance. Yours, on the other hand, is a key to new realities. Quite literally, in fact,”
“But I’m curious.” The words spilling from his mouth start to become ragged. Holding a conversation while running is not the smartest thing he’s ever done. “And I care.”
Perhaps he’ll stop talking if I tell him.
“Hebbuca. I was given the name Hebbuca by my mother nine weeks before my birth. My mother was murdered by the man who is after us, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to stop talking and formulate a plan.”
To my surprise, he stops. We run. My mind switches into tactical gear, but the ebbing glow of recognition in the back of my head catches me off-guard. Perhaps he does care, this Graham hunter fellow.
But then the laughter of the Dark One screeches through the trees. I have more important things to do than thank the hunter for accepting my name. There is a killer on the loose, and if I don’t outsmart him with a deal, I fear there will be nothing left for me to lose.
Wasted crime
In each rhyme
I’ve run out
Of my time
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Re: January 10 - 16

Post by Admin on Fri Jan 16, 2015 1:30 am

Psycho Pass

    “Would you like to go see a movie this weekend?” she asked.

    I lifted my Dominator to bear. It felt light in my loosened grip, the handle of the gun fitting perfectly where I’d held it for so many years. I looked over to Akane, her hands shaking on the handgrip as she kept the barrel of her Dominator pointing loosely in my direction. She was infatuated by me – intrigued by the way I thought and how I tracked down criminals. Confused, perhaps, as to how I had been deemed such a psychotic criminal myself, branded by society as mentally unstable and thus a threat to civilization in the year 2106. Either that or she thought I was just going to do something plain stupid. I looked down the barrel of her Dominator. I still had the stitches in my back from the week before when she’d shot me. Was I angry? Of course not. My Psycho Pass was above the safety level, I was criminally insane. I was but a hound doing a dog’s work – tracking down the criminals. Akane was the true inspector, even if she was over five years my younger. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in mental stability, something I did not have according to society.

    Glancing up, I watched for a split second as Mazaoka gave the hand signal to circle around and rendezvous in the criminal’s apartment. Mazaoka was a veteran officer in his early sixties. He was a hound just like me, deemed mentally unstable and a danger to society. He’d been forced to either work as a dog for the police force, or spend the rest of his life in solitary confinement. I’d been given the same options; only my solitary confinement involved a gas chamber. Our Psycho Pass was cloudy, and it was by this system that a human’s sanity was measured. The criminal we were tracking had a cloudy Psycho Pass of eighty-three and climbing; twenty-three marks above the safety limit. If found, our Dominators would immediately switch to stun mode in which we’d be able to detain the convict and bring him back in for rehab. Sometimes, the targets were beyond mental repair and required on the spot termination. Like the hostage victim who’d lathered herself in gasoline in order to end her life earlier this week – she’d been beyond help. That was when Akane shot me – she believed that the girl’s mental state could return back to moderate levels. She stopped me from killing the girl. I respected her for making that judgement.

    Like usual, Ginoza the lead inspector was with the other hounds. Why did he always pair Mazaoka and I up with Akane? Was it because he trusted us, or trusted her? Akane was one of the most mentally stable people in the entire corps; her Psycho Pass was always kept at exceedingly clear levels. Then again, Mazaoka and I were two of the most experienced hounds in the Force. The most experienced dogs.

    I had been stationed at my spot for a while now at the apartment’s back door, waiting for Mazaoka to make his move. Akane came running up from behind, panting as she arrived.

    “Do you guys have to run so fast?” she asked.

    “We’re hounds. Chasing is what we do.”

    “But he hasn’t left his apartment, has he?”

    We both froze as something shattered from within the apartment’s quarters. I quickly heard Mazaoka’s signal, kicking the door in front of me a moment later. Swinging my Dominator into the room, I searched the floor for traces. Mazaoka met me in the living room a moment later, followed by inspector Akane who hid behind me as if the criminal would jump out from behind the furniture at any minute. Looking down onto the coffee table I noted a thick stack of thrillers and horror movies. The scene was obvious enough; the convict had heard we were coming and broke the window, escaping onto the streets below. Reaching down, I snatched one of the thrillers and put it in my coat pocket.

    Within moments I was sailing through the air out the window, soaring over the streets before landing in a forward roll, my right shoulder taking the brunt of the force. Mazaoka was close behind me – the less intrepid Akane slowly scaled down the two-story wall behind us. I was off in an instant – a gut feeling that told me I needed to run down the street in this specific direction. I twisted and turned through the alleyways as signs of the criminal became more distinct – shoe scratches in the floor, the clatter of someone smashing into garbage bins up ahead. Eventually I saw him, a young man in his early twenties, no older than Akane. I knew these streets well; he’d run himself into a corner.

    Frantic with fear and confusion upon meeting the alleyway wall, he spun around to face me. Sweat dripped from his face as his chest heaved in quick, heavy blows, his eyes gazed towards me like two moons in the darkness. I would let my gun make the final call. Lifting the Dominator to his head, it gave me a brief synopsis on his Psycho Pass, which read “one-hundred fifty-four”. The analysis was brief and accurate – I never questioned the system. This man was unstable; it was my job to end his life before he spread panic to the populous. My gun transformed from its classic stance into its lethal guise as I charged up the fatal blow.

    “Been watching too many horror movies, have you?” I questioned.

    The man began blabbering gibberish as he realized the end was near.

    “Those things can upset your Psycho Pass.”

    I fired. The man screamed. And within seconds, it was all over.

    Akane came running up from behind me with Mazaoka.

    “He was only frightened!” She shouted. “Did he have to die?”

    Mazaoka smiled. “Frightened people are a danger to our society. They must be eliminated, just as the system demands.”

    Akane seemed unhappy with the outcome, staring at her shoes. I flashed her one of my rare smiles.

    “Would you still like to see that movie this weekend, inspector?”

    “Why sure!” she giggled, immediately brightening up.

    “I found this really good thriller that we could watch…”
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Re: January 10 - 16

Post by LittleDancer on Fri Jan 16, 2015 2:48 pm

Kate Clarke was said to be an up and coming politician in the English government, she was thirty one years old. She was murdered last night at her office. No one seems to know why, it even has Sherlock baffled.
“EUREKA I’VE GOT IT!” Sherlock grabbed his coat and gloves and ran out the door. John jumped up after him and ran out the door closing it behind him.
“Where are you going?” John asked as he caught up to Sherlock.
“House of Parliament, it all makes sense now” Sherlock said more to himself then to John. “Taxi!” Sherlock called. It’s convenient that Sherlock could get a taxi whenever he needed one. A car pulled up and they got in. John decided not to question Sherlock’s deductions and rode along. He had learned to go with it in the last few months.
“Sherlock would you care to explain?” John asked after a few minutes of Sherlock looking out the window.
“Kate Clarke was in her office on Saturday evening working late on overdue papers. The janitor had come and gone, but he had left a case of bottled water near her office. Kate later took one of the bottles and within the hour she was dead. The water must have been poisoned; I was so stupid not to see it before. The poison leaves no trace of anything, nothing.” Sherlock finished.
The car pulled into a roundabout and dropped them off. They walked up the large steps into the House of Parliament. How they were going to get into the offices John had no idea. Sherlock pressed the elevator button and they stepped in. Floor six.
As soon as the elevator opened Sherlock instantly started looking around and sniffing about, touching this and that, muttering deductions. There were no police or guards, or inspectors.
After a few minutes they made it Kate Clarke’s office, Sherlock carefully opened the door and stepped inside, he shut the door in John’s face and turned the lock.
John took a deep breath and rolled his eyes; He turned the other way and decided to look around on his own. He thought it funny that no one was around, to investigate a murder. John looked around until he came to a half empty water bottle on the secretary’s desk. He looked behind the desk to see a young woman on the floor. He quickly felt her neck for a pulse but he only felt cold skin, a thing he had felt too often.
“Sherlock, Sherlock you will want to see this” John called. John ran back to the room Sherlock had locked himself into.
“Sherlock!” John called frantically twisting the doorknob. “Open the door Sherlock.” John cursed under his breath.
“John isn’t it funny to scribble on a water bottle?” Sherlock asked holding a water bottle up that had something scribbled on it in pen.
“Sherlock, someone else drank the water” John gulped. Sherlock followed John back to the desk and showed him the limp body.
“What are we going to do?!” John started to panic. “We can’t just leave her here, but we can’t carry a body downstairs. We’ll have to call the police.” John pulled out his phone and called 9-9-9.
Sherlock grabbed the half empty water and put it in his jacket. They could hear the sirens in the distance.
Sherlock quickly led me into a small room with security camera T.V.’s. Sherlock frantically typed for a minute and then a video turned on. It showed Kate Clarkson working. The bottle of water was beside her, she took a drink and put the bottle down, the writing was clear to Sherlock: It’s me.
“Come on John” Sherlock said “Let’s go.”

~*****~

I was usually at the lab by eight o’clock every morning but this morning I couldn’t seem to get myself out of bed. It was my phone buzzing from under my pillow that finally woke me up.
We are coming to the lab
SH

I jumped out of bed and started hurriedly getting dressed. I put my hair in a tight bun and put on my glasses. I rushed out the door with an apple in my hand. I ran back into the house a minute later as I forgot my car keys. I also realized I needed shoes.
It took about ten minutes to drive to the lab, but this time it only took me seven, I put on a lab coat as I entered the laboratory and started setting up all my equipment. I got out some of the tests from last night and set them on the counter with the apple that had long been forgotten.
I couldn’t help myself from dancing around the lab room, there was so much space, and I missed the art form. I started doing and Adagio and lost myself in the dance. I heard the lab door open and I stopped dancing instantly and cleared my throat.
“Good-uh… Morning” I said stammering a little. Sherlock passed without a word, and John smiled and said “Good morning.”
Sherlock put the two bottles of water on the counter and poured a small amount onto a glass slide and put it under the microscope.
“Hmmm, interesting” Sherlock mumbled, zooming in the microscope. “Molly, have you heard of Carbon Zionite dioxide?” Sherlock asked still looking through the microscope.
I searched my mind for such a thing, but nothing came up.
“Sorry, no” I responded.
“It’s a deadly poison that affects the intestines, it leaves almost no trace and it is almost impossible to see.” Sherlock said removing the slide and handing it to John.
“John can you put this through the defibrillator” Sherlock said more as a command then a question. John left the room carefully holding the slide. He returned in a few minutes with a piece of paper in his hands. He handed it to Sherlock, I peeked over his shoulder.
“Carbon zionite dioxide” I whispered.
“Indeed” Sherlock said. “Everybody be quiet, I need to go to my mind palace.” Sherlock said, sitting down. For a few minutes everything was quiet. I and John stood in silence waiting for Sherlock to say something.
“It must have been the janitor” Sherlock said after a few more minutes. “He brought the bottles in when he knew Kate Clarkson and hopefully other people would drink the water, but no one else has besides the secretary. But who would want to do that? Only one way to find out, to the factory!” Sherlock said.
“If you want we can take my car” I offered. Sherlock nodded and we left hastily and drove half an hour to the bottle factory. It was rather run down but it was still in working condition. We entered through one of the loading bay doors that was open. I heard some muffled sounds and a loud voice.
“I told you to wait until the morning!” The voice shouted.
“I’m sorry I was just trying to blend in” Another voice whimpered.
“Blend in?!?!? The whole plan hinged on you doing your job right, and you’re trying to blend in?!?” The first voice yelled. I heard a loud noise and I flinched. The voices stopped and I heard footsteps on metal stairs nearby.
Sherlock took a gun out of his pocket as did John. All I had in my pocket was a piece of scrap paper and a pencil. Not much help, I thought. Sherlock moved slowly towards the stairs. I followed at a reasonable distance. Since I wasn’t armed I didn’t feel the need to be to close.
“Caroline” Sherlock said with a bit of contempt in his voice. Caroline? Who was she? I thought a bit jealously. I ignored the feeling and took a few steps forward so that I could see the person that Sherlock addressed as Caroline. She was tall and had short dark hair. Her green eyes seemed to bore into you, dissecting every bit of you.
“Do you two know each other?” John asked.
“I thought you were dead” Sherlock said ignoring John’s question.
“I was going say the same thing about you” Caroline laughed.
“Where- How do you know her?” John asked again.
“Saudi Arabia” Sherlock said, as if that explained everything. Sherlock pulled out the bottle of water that had the scribbling on it.
“You wrote this didn’t you?” Sherlock asked holding up the bottle.
“Of course I could, who else do you know who can write in Arabic?” She said mischievously. Sherlock looked puzzled for a moment, and Caroline took off running up the stairs, Sherlock was after her, with John close behind and me at the rear. She was fast and before I knew it I was out of breath.
Finally John lunged at her feet and brought her down, she clawed and kicked him until he let go. She stood up and grabbed something out of her pocket before Sherlock could fire his weapon.
“Nobody shoot or I will blow up this whole building, we will all die” Caroline said. Sherlock and John lowered their weapons after a moment.
“Now then boys, you are going to do what I say” Caroline said laughing. Sherlock’s eyes darted around, they look at me but I shook my head. I was so close, I took one more step and BAM. I wacked her in the head with a metal pole. I snuck up behind her after I lost sight of them before John tackled her.
John checked her head for a concussion, but she seemed fine. For the second time that day John called the police.
“John take a cab home, me and Molly have some tests to run at the lab” Sherlock said. John reluctantly agreed.


~*****~


Sherlock leaned with his back against the counter.

“I saw you dancing earlier Molly” Sherlock stated.
“Oh… Y-You did?” I asked faintly.
“Yes, it was beautiful” Sherlock said almost painfully, I knew he hated showing any kind of emotion.
“T-T-thank you” I said quietly, looking at the floor. He stepped closer to me, I could smell his cologne.
“May I have this dance?” Sherlock asked holding out his hand. I nodded and smiled shyly as he took my hand. He was as a good a dancer as he was at violin. I got lost in the dance and found myself giggling and looking into his dark eyes, they were beautiful. They were full of love and sparkled when he smiled, which was rare. I felt myself blushing under his gaze.
We ended the dance but I was still in his arms. He softly kissed my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. I pulled away and stepped aside. I looked at the floor and scuffed my toe on the floor.
“Molly” Sherlock said lifting my chin with his hand.
“Y-yes?” I stammered.
“You’re beautiful” He responded. And with that he walked out of the laboratory.
I bit my lower lip and smiled.
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Re: January 10 - 16

Post by Adley☮ on Fri Jan 16, 2015 6:32 pm

The “squad” as they call themselves, took me in. I worked hard to keep up with them at first, but now I was one of the best. I spent a year of running with them, stealing with them, surviving with them. I wasn’t born to be a soldier, I was born to farm, but seeing as the orcs have destroyed all the farms, I am now a soldier. If you could call us soldiers that is, we’re more like thugs or thieves, stealing from humans and orcs alike.
“Wake up!” said Harold, handing me a sword.
I rubbed my eyes, I hated waking up early, but the adrenaline rush quickly removed all sleep from the system.
I quickly belted the sword on and grabbed my bow and arrows. Our gang was made up of teenage boys, selfish, cowardly, but just trying to survive. I hated the leader Harold the most, he valued being leader too much.
In just a few moments we were all ready beside the road, listening to the sound of carriage wheels approaching. Jerry sat in the tree, it was his job to figure out the threat level of the approaching carriage and he then signalled the threat level to Harold, who decided whether or not to attack. Harold rose is hand, I drew my bow. Harold gave thumbs up, signalling us to show ourselves.
“Halt!” yelled Harold.
“What is this?” asked the carriage driver, a large man who obviously didn’t like dealing with crap.
“A robbery, get out of the carriage!” yelled Harold, already beginning to sound unsure.
“What are you going to do?” asked the man stepping from the carriage. “Shoot me?”
The man approached Harold; Harold aimed his bow at the man’s head.
“Are you going to shoot me?” repeated the man.
This was bad, Harold was too scared to shoot him; I slowly approached the man from behind, letting my bow down and drawing my sword.
“Are you going to shoot me?” now the man was removing the arrow from Harold’s bow.
I didn’t want to kill the man, so I turned my sword around and hit him on the back of the head with the hilt.
“George, Tom, get on his arms.” I said, trying to stay calm. “Rob, get on his feet.”
I sheathed my sword and drew my bow, pointing it at the man’s head as he gained consciousness.
“You’re brave”, I said, looking him in the eye.
“You won’t shoot me” replied the man, unimpressed with me.
“You’re wrong, I won’t kill you, but I will shoot you.” I looked up; everyone else was staring at us. “Search the cart, take the valuables!” I yelled.
“What are you going to do to me then?” asked the man.
“You have kids?” I asked, ignoring his question.
“Aye and a wife.”
“Good man, you take care of them.” I looked deeper into his eyes, I saw fear. Despite his incredible bravery he was afraid. “I like you.”
I turned to the boys searching the cart, “Leave half the contents behind!” I yelled.
“What are you doing?” asked Harold bitterly, finally over the shock of being disarmed.
“This man showed bravery, he deserves half his stuff, hell, he deserves all his stuff, but we can’t afford that.”
“Take it all!” yelled Harold.
“Take half!” I yelled.
Harold gave me a cold stare; I turned to see what the boys would do. They did nothing, just stared back at us. Ben picked up a crate of apples and slowly put it back into the cart. I gave him a nod; he was risking a lot for me. The other boys quickly copied Ben.
“Release the man” I said.
“What if I go back to town, gather a gang of men and hunt you down?” asked the man, suspicious of my intentions.
“I don’t think you will” I said turning my back on him, a sign that I trusted him not to kill me.
With that the boys moved out, carrying their plunder.

I thought fast as we walked back to camp. I had just defied our leader, a leader that above all thirsts for power. He will kill me for this. But not publically, I had just proven the boys were loyal to me. He will kill me tonight.
I lay ready for him, watching as he drew his bow in the middle of the night. Something kept me from reacting right away. Instead I watched as he let his bow down, I could practically feel his fear. Fear of killing another human. Then he suddenly drew his bow again, this time I rolled to the side as he fired. I sprang onto my feel, sword ready.
He had already discarded his bow and drawn his sword. The other boys were waking up, but I was unaware of them. Now it was just Harold and I. He was better at sword fighting then me, which is why he was leader. If I was going to win I had to strike quickly and I had to strike hard. I had one advantage over him, I enjoy pain more. I leaped at him, taking advantage of the high ground. As I flew towards him the world slowed down, adrenaline rushing to every part of me. I exposed my right like, watching with contentment as his sword slowly swung towards my weak spot. Moments before his blade bit into my leg, I brought my sword down towards his head. As soon as his sword began to cut into me, I looked towards the night sky, soaking in the cold openness. I blacked out.


For the next week I lay in the rocky ground, ordering the boys to do this and that while my leg healed. They were afraid of me, but none left and none defied me. Most believed that Harold had attacked first, justifying the fact that I almost killed him. Harold didn`t do anything but scream for the entire week. I had after all chopped his arm off. As soon as Harold began to retake control of the boys, I left, limping away from the life I had known for the last year. I took what I could carry, which wasn`t much, considering my leg.
As I travelled through the wilderness, slowly, slowly, making my way around orc camps, foraging for food, I grew weaker and weaker. My head burned, by leg was infected, my entire being was weak. I couldn`t tell if I was hallucinating or not when I saw a village, but I stumbled towards it, before passing out.

I awoke in a room. I hadn`t slept inside a room for over a year. I slowly turned my head and saw a girl, sitting on a chair beside me. She was knitting.
“Excuse me?” I tried to say, making jumbled noises instead.
She dropped her knitting and looked at me, excitement in her eyes.
“You’re awake!” she said.
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Re: January 10 - 16

Post by xxShayWolfxx on Fri Jan 16, 2015 6:34 pm

Some say we don't exist. Some claim to have seen us. Some have only heard tales and wish that we exist. Some refuse to acknowledge our existance, while others don't even have a clue that we're here. Then, there's us. There are few of us that are left in the world. Long ago, there were seven kingdoms, where our kind existed in great numbers, along with the others who were considered “normal.” Then came the great outbreak, war. The normal ones rose against us, destroying not only all seven kingdoms, but the majority of our population. Thanks to them, the few of us remaining, live among them, in hiding. It's a dangerous time for our kind to exist, but with the kingdoms brought down to dust, we have nowhere to go. Nowhere we can thrive in the open, nowhere to call home. Our only hope and chance for survival, is to blend in with the humans. Who is us? My kind. Gracelings.

I'm not your average teenage Graceling. Most are graced with simple, hobby-like skills, such as baking, drawing, memorization. Me? My grace is perception. Not only can I sense what's around me, but I can sense people's thoughts and feelings towards me. No Graceling known before has been Graced with such skills. Along with perception, my grace gives me expert hand to hand combat skills. Not that I'm anything special, though. To any human, I'm just an average kid. Skinny, “too pale,” medium length bright aqua blue hair (Dyed, or at least that's what the humans think), 5'2, and Graceling eyes, each a different color. My eyes, well I have one bright, deep blue, and the other a bright lime green. Having different colored eyes is the main characteristic of every Graceling. How do I hide this from the humans? Contacts, of course. To them, my eyes are a light hazel brown. 95% of everything I have told any human, has been lies. I can't tell them the truth of anything. Where I come from, my family, my previous home, my feelings and thoughts, nothing. Every day of my life in the human world, is a lie. But for now, I have no other choice. I have yet to find any of the other Gracelings that escaped. For now, all I can do is wait.

The second I climbed out my bedroom window, I sensed him near. He was hiding, and at first unaware of my presence. At night, outside and alone, was the only time I could feel normal, be myself. But not that one night. That night, everything changed.
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The Hunger Games

Post by Natarsha on Wed Jan 28, 2015 9:10 pm

Sooo this story is super late, but I found it really hard to write, but here you are:

                                                   Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part One: The Hanging Tree


I straggle behind the bodyguards, and crew, feeling their presence to be a violation of my beloved meadows, this was my safe haven, my private place now corrupted by the evil doing of the capitol. After we had left behind the charred stumps near the fence, we were still tripping over decomposing bodies. Must we record it for everyone to see? I thought to myself.

When we finally reached the lake, most of us had seemed to of lose the ability to speak, even my best friend Gale who seemed to always have something to say, seeing everyone was drenched in sweat especially the ones inside their insect like shells. We all agreed to stop and eat to get our energy back up.

We sit under the tress for shade as we eat, I sit far away at that edge of the group alone. As I sit and eat, I feel a presence beside me,
“Hello Gale” I smile watching the birds in the trees

“Mockingjay’s?” He says looking up

“Yeap, here I’ll show you” I whistle a bird call. The mockingjay cocks its head and whistles the call right back to me, Gale joins in with a few notes of his own. The bird answered him straight away, Gale’s face was light up with delight, as I look at him smiling. Music draws mockingjays like blossoms do bees, after a short time he has half a dozen of them perched above our heads, in the branches, I smile at him.

“Maybe we should call you the bird whisper” I softly laugh and he nudges my shoulder

“Sing?” He asks looking at me with pleading in his eyes, I don’t decline like I would normally. It has been 10 years since I sung “The Hanging Tree” out loud, only because it’s forbidden, but I remember every word, I begin softly, as my father did.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”

The mockingjays soon alter their songs as become aware of the new song.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.
Strange things did happen
Here no stranger would it be
If we met at midnight in the hanging tree.”


I have the birds’ attention. One more verse and they will have captured the melody, as it is simple and repeats four times.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”


A hush in the trees, only a rustle of leaves in the breeze, but no birds. He was right, they do fall silent when I sing.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.”


The birds perched up ahead are waiting for me to continue but that’s it. No more verse’s, I look around and noticed the film crew had started filming me again and Gale looked so happy, I couldn’t help but smile. Gale leans over kissing my cheek, my cheeks flush red.

“You were amazing, you should sing more” I laugh till I realise he was serious

“Maybe” I say as he helps me up

Cressida tells us it’s time to go and I and Gale with the crew walk back hand in hand. As we head back to district 13, to enlighten the flame of the plan. To take down the capitol.
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Re: January 10 - 16

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