February 27 - March 6

[Adley☮]

This weeks challenge is to write a fictional story in a universe you invented. (can't be the real world or a universe from a book or show). The story can be about anything you like, but it must give the reader a good idea of the universe (stuff like landscape and how the society functions). The purpose of this challenge is to develope your descriptive skills as well as your detailed imagination. Also if anyone wants to draw a map or picture of their universe that would be amazing.

[Adley☮]

Ok, I actually had a lot of fun with my own challenge and got it done early this week. I hope my story is interesting rather then boring, but sorry if it is boring.

City of Cities

Earth
         The aliens have explained to me that the trip will take approximately 11 earth months and I will be asleep for the entire time. The aliens refuse to explain the mechanics of their ship and sleep boxes, but I did manage to gather the main concept. On board the ship is a time engine, which through means of microscopic procedures slows time down. When I asked, the aliens claimed it is impossible to reverse or go back in time, but they said this specific ship will slow time to 1/90,000th of what it is in space. With time this slow on board the ship, it can travel 41.25 light years in the span of the 11 earth month journey. While travelling, all passengers are put to sleep inside the sleep boxes. If one truly thinks about the concepts offered, you will realize that although only a year has passed outside the spaceship, 82,500 years have passed on the inside of the spaceship. This is why all passengers are put to sleep, so they do not age.

Day 1
         Emerging from a preservative sleep is both relieving and uncomfortable. I imagine the feeling is similar to that which babies feel when they are born. I was awoken slightly before we arrived to observe the alien homeland as we approached. Their planet is smaller than ours, about 42 million square kilometres, which is close to the same size as our moon. Their lighter gravity is what allows the aliens to be larger than us, it must also allow for taller buildings. We approach the planet going the same direction as its rotation, entering a low orbit. I observe two continents, one bigger than the other. The smaller continent is the one we approach, docking above one of the urban centres in the southern end of the continent. We dock alongside a large station, which connects to the city bellow via space elevator.

Day 2
         The aliens are satisfied that I am biologically safe for their planet; I can begin my tour of their capitol city. Or the capitol city of Lyunik, which is one of the alien countries located on the planet. The Lyunik aliens are the people who claim to have created humans. I cannot yet say if they are hostile towards us, but I will hopefully find out. I also plan to communicate with the other alien nations if possible, they may prove valuable allies against the Lyunik, if worse comes to worse.
         To describe the capitol would be impossible. It looks similar to our own metropolises on earth, but bigger. Some of the buildings are 4 or 5 kilometres tall. One building has the space elevator perched on top; the sheer height of the elevator is unsettling. The streets in the city do not run in squares, rather they run in rectangles, at least 10 times longer than they are wide. Above each street is another elevated street. The main street of the city has 13 streets stacked above it. There are some streets for vehicles, which the rich aliens use, but most streets carry thousands of personal sized cubicles, which are whisked along rails at incredible speeds. Other streets are made for cargo; these streets resemble conveyor belts. The aliens say that each building in the city is made to function like a city of its own. Each building has living spaces, entertainment areas, stores, parks and places to work. All these separate cities connect to function as one city, one city of cities.

[Admin]

Chavivi Rivkin walked out of the dive with Ailsie Somper in tow, each cradling their respective drinks in one hand, which connected to their lips via silage. Rivkin was a staunch young lad, antithetical to abnormalities, or any sort of change for that matter – preferring to stick to his urban-favorite Cinnamon Drop frappuccino. He was brawn in build, with velvet-russet hair, which he styled into a forward point. Ailsie Somper on the other hand was an unpredictable specimen, opposed to the normalities of life, having ordered the new drink Honey Phantom without so much as a second glance. Her lacking in size and shape was more than made up for in her erect demeanor, which was ever so slightly softened by her gentle facial features. Her sandy brown hair was pulled back into a topknot that seemed to go unnoticed when she lifted her head to speak to boys much taller than she. Rivkin and Somper were a rather unusual pair, being the focus of most their friends’ conversations (when they were around, of course).
     Casually holding the door open for the other, Rivkin let it fall just as the lass was nearly through. They were both careful not to remove their lips from their straws, as if some unnatural turn of events would occur if they broke the sacred pact. Rivkin leapt back not a moment too soon as a strand of Gutweed lashed out at him, tendrils and all. The Arching Gutweed had become a pest in the city as of late, choking up all the other plants in its wake. It would make its home wherever it pleased, be it on high craggy skyscrapers, or in the bowels of the mining outskirts. Gutweed was known for potentially gutting its victims, although there were no record of human deaths by this invasive species, most of their prey consisting of pigeons and other city pests. They were simply replacing one problem with another. The government was spread awfully thin with the outbreak of the waterborne viruses as a direct result to lack of clean water in the cities, and thus lacked the time and resources to combat the threatening spread of Arching Gutweed. That was perfectly fine with Rivkin though, he was used to it.
     The National Libertarian Union had governed the Union of Danus for the past fifteen years, and they were expected to do so for the next thirteen, unless civil war broke out, which was a highly unlikely predicament. The citizens were generally happy, and felt no reason or need for rebellion – namely due to the government’s leniency towards public innovation. The Danusians didn’t have many ideas of their own, but having a government that they knew was open to their thoughts was enough to make them content.
     Canons of confetti shot into the streets as children screamed and giggled with glee – today just so happened to be Emancipation Day, which had been precisely the reason Rivkin had worked up the courage to ask his significant other on a date. Banners lined the streets, and all the locals wore leis of roses, some plastic, others real. A particularly charming boy walked in their direction wearing a green lei – the colors symbolizing freedom and diversity.
     Rivkin was taken off guard as he saw his partner’s furor to the stranger’s approach.
     “Makis!” Ailsie shouted, waving her free arm.
     The boy smiled, making his way towards the couple.
     “You know how to stick out of a crowd, beautiful,” said the boy, stooping down to kiss Ailsie’s cheek.
     Rivkin tensed noticeably at the intruders open affections towards his girl.
     “Chevivi, meet Makis,” bubbled an excited Ailsie Somper.
     “Makis Shine,” said the boy with the green flowered lei, extending a welcoming hand.
     “Chevivi Rivkin,” replied the other, coldly.
     “Makis is from Efclion, he’s only been in Danus for a couple weeks now.”
     “Efclion!?” Chevivi shouted enraged, spinning around to Ailsie before turning back to Makis, a fire burning in his eyes with murderous intent.
     “No, no! Quiet you,” reproached Ailsie, “He’s good now, he’s one of us.”
     Chevivi was tempted to spit. But he refrained, for Ailsie’s sake. Besides, she was clinging onto his arm.
     Makis was an athletic character with an aristocratic aura about him, piercing blue eyes and a sandy mop atop his acute jaw line and sturdy face. The country of Efclion where he’d hailed from was a society bent on war and power, located on the far eastward portion of the continent. It was said that they starved their babies and whipped their women and children into submission, and nothing grows there – not even Gutweed. It’s not a wonder Makis had fled to Danus, thought Chavivi. For conversation sake he decided to ask anyways.
     “What brings you here?” he muttered with a near inaudible sneer.
     Makis smiled a genuine grin. “I came here to avoid the mandatory enrollment.”
     Chavivi tilted his head, surprised by the answer. “Not to escape the whipping, and forced starvation of the young to feed the powerful?”
     “Chavi!” Ailsie shouted, slapping him menacingly upon his bicep. It hurt him emotionally; he could barely feel it otherwise.
     “Haha don’t worry Miss Somper, lots of people get the facts about my country mixed up. Sure our society is one of war, but we’re also a culture of honor and education, one dedicated to the pursuit of sciences and medicines – healthy living.”
     “You can’t believe everything they play on the news,” said Ailsie, back her cheerful self again.
     “I guess not,” muttered Chavivi.
     Their dictator, Thragnull the Terrible, must not have been so bad after all. I mean, sure, Chavivi knew that the news often stretched things out a little bit.
     The solar lights over the city went dim as the sky nearly turned to black. It was 3am after all, and the moon was conveniently blocked out for this next part of the celebration. Thousands of mini lights began to float onto the streets from some unknown location, their bluish-green luminescence lighting up the faces of eager children.
     “Ioscotus blossoms!” exclaimed Makis. “I’ve only ever heard about them, or read of them in books!”
     “Yes, truly marvelous,” Chavivi mocked, rolling his eyes.
     Makis didn’t seem to notice as he disappeared into the crowd, trying to catch one of the highflying buds. “I’ll find one for you, Miss Somper!” he shouted back.
     Chavivi shook his head. Emancipation day was turning into a total wreck; he didn’t even feel like finishing his Cinnamon Drop frap, chucking it at a nearby entanglement of Gutweed which wreathed upon impact.
     “What’s wrong, Chavi?” Ailsie asked, her eyes outshining the chaos around them, two pools of indefinite life which Chavivi wished to drown himself in right then and there.
     “Nothing,” he said, tearing his gaze away from hers.
     “Ok. I’m going to go find Makis, he’s probably going to get himself gutted out there,” she said, leaving Chavivi’s side and disappearing in the direction Makis had went.
     Chavivi shoved his hands into his pockets. “I hope he does.”
     “Unfortunately for you, my friend, that won’t be happening anytime soon,” came a voice from behind.
     Chavivi spun around to see Makis standing before him with what appeared to be a kitchen knife.
     “You should never trust an Efclion,” Makis’ face seemed to shine, just as his surname suggested. Whirling his knife about in his fingers, he plunged it into Chavivi’s center. “Soon we shall infiltrate your government. Danus will fall. But you won’t be here to see that, OR your girlfriend.” Makis threw Rivkin’s limp body into a manhole, which he had already prepared precisely for the occasion, using his foot to slide the metallic cover back on, blotting out the luminescent glow from Chevivi’s fading view. The last thing to leave him was his hearing-
     “There you are Miss Somper! Here’s the blossom I promised.”
     “Makis! Have you seen Chevivi?”
     “No, I can’t say I have, my darling. Shall we go look for him?”
     “Yes! I can’t find him anywhere…”

[Melody]

I could have written a lot more about Erithor, but I wanted to make it somewhat story like. Just a quick note: Erithor is the name of the kingdom of Erithor (obviously), but the name of the continent is also Erithor. So the Fairy Kingdom is located in Erithor, yet it isn't the same as the kingdom Erithor, if that makes any sense.

Azghar stared down at his map, removing his iron helmet to get a better view. Soon the vast expanse of land would be his. They should have been his—if he had not been so careless. It would not be mistake he would repeat.
Rumors of the dragon egg hatching had reached his ears late last night. Anor and Elif had not returned yet—they had been sent to eliminate Florine, the eggs carrier. It had been reported back to him that Florine was taken in with a middle aged couple, Earl and Marie. It had hatched for their niece, Armaila.
Armaila was living with them. That could mean only one thing. Her parents had been summoned by the king—the Ravens had been reformed.
They were an elite team of agents organized specifically for one purpose: to destroy the Legion, Azghar's army. Florine had lead the Ravens originally, before handing down the position to Karl Farland, Armaila's father. Armaila's mother was second in command.
Azghar had enjoyed when Florine lead it. It was a game to him—he would let her get close, too close sometimes, then quickly disappear. She had fallen in love with an once—a fairy named Tilion. Azghar sent her his head in a basket.
He always found it amusing that Florine was his sister. She did not know. Six hundred years ago, their parents had married. Lothril, Queen of the Fairies, to Viral, a lowly dragon Rider. When a child is born of such heritage, they either resemble a fairy or a human. They are known as an altor. Florine was like a fairy—Azghar was human in appearance.
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. How the dragons had been killed, and nearly all the eggs smashed. How he had fled, like a coward. How he had built up his army.
How he would destroy Erithor.
Cold and calculating, he studied his map. Normar, the capital city, lay about four days travel from the eastern sea. The Islands of Frost would make navigating a fleet into the small bay hazardous. And besides, it was too quick. He would slowly squeeze Erithor in a vice like grip, until slowly, it died. He had the army to do it—no one could equal his force.
He would have his Legion surround Erithor, coast to coast. A small attack on Normar could be made after Fortharnor, capital of the Fairy Kingdom (Necd uw rli Feribwenn, Land of the Waterfall in Common Fairy) was captured. The Land of Ash would be hard to navigate. A barren wasteland, made that way from the Dragon Wars over two millennium ago. The Inem river flowed through it, but the sun would be relentless. Better send double the needed troops. Only half would arrive in Normar.
That is where the new dragon Rider would be destined. His assassination attempt on Florine had gone awry—his archer had stuck Earl instead. The others escaped.
Florine would have told her to make for Stonebrook he knew. In spite of the cities swamp like terrain, it was second in size to only Normar. Fortharnor was the largest, but it was in another kingdom.
The Carmine Plains would be hard to navigate with a dragon, having no water sources for an animal that large to drink from, but it was quite doable. The trip would likely take a week and a half, if they were not killed first. Legends of a captron in the High Pass were prevalent. Many legends were just that—legends, no more. But Azghar had learned long ago not to ignore them.
The overall climate of the continent was just the right mixture of warm and cool to make growing its main economy. The fishing off the coasts were good, making it the main sustenance of coastal towns, such as Shanar. Overall, it was surprisingly unpopulated for its fertile land and gentle climate.
A rap came on Azghar's chamber door.
“Come in,” he said, using his usual gruff voice.
“Sire,” said a tall elf, looking unsure of himself. “Your loyal troops are ready.”
Azghar nodded. “Good. We march for Normar.”

[Wlonnie]

Warning: Unedited. Also, the random words in this story (eg. Duenna, lazaretto, etc.) are real English words. I wrote this story with my 1905 British English dictionary beside me.

I Kept Your Note

Sometimes I forget that the voices I manipulated were all named, all individualized. It gets hard to distinguish between sorcery and forgery after too many years of intermixing the two. My power is one that is known throughout all the land. Those with mottled intelligence call it magic -- the fact of the matter is that I have been gifted with the ability to harness chemicals and unlock their true potential. I am able to give and take life, to dull or sharpen the mind. What makes this power all the more alluring is that I am its sole master. I am unmatched in my prowess. How can you fault a man for twisting the strongest of magics without proper training?
As I gaze out onto my land, Duenna, a city I built from the empiric abilities within my mind, I'm struck with a sudden most brilliant, wondrous thought. Rain strikes the windowpane only inches away from my eyes. Out of everything I can control and all that I believe, only the weather is beyond my reach. Sunny days and blankets of snow are not mine to break or bend. As the rain creates a glaze-like sheen over blue-barked durst trees, I wonder why my powers have never extended to this atmospheric height. Perhaps, with the right practice and formulas, I'd easily be able to bend the wind to do my bidding.
The thought makes me frown.
Perchance some things are better left alone. I think to myself before stepping away from the window and draping a musty-smelling curtain across its glaring surface. I can’t help but think about the countless lazarettos lining the streets of Duenna. A booming number of quarantine hospitals have recently sprouted across the city, all thanks to an introduced virus brought in by an unhealthy genetically altered fruit; one of my inventions.
I’m the reason my people are dying. Me.
My eyes wander to the solid durst wood chest in the corner of my office that holds too many broken hearts to count. Letters. The chest is filled with letters. Sandra McKandry. Alex Findlater. Eric Kim. I’ve memorized their names. There are three hundred and forty-eight in total. Civilians, all of them. Thanking me for the changes made to their society. Thanking me for the brutal disease I ripped from their children.
Thanking me for being a good person.
In the midst of this power, this corrupt, cold-hearted blasphemy against the very laws of nature, I have kept each and every thank-you letter. It’s like a sort of penance. Maybe, if I don’t forget the terrible monster that I am, no one else will get hurt in my wake. But it’s a lie. Too many lies. They all crowd my head like crows around a decaying carcass. Unforgiving, unashamed in their torment.
I deserve each moment of my torment.
Years ago, back when I was just a boy, Duenna was a thriving village. Babies were born while the elderly died in peace, and at each event, a village-wide celebration took place. Both life and death were seen as the start of a fruitful journey, and the people in between spent their days weaving and singing and exporting figs to the capital city. No one was rich, no one was poor, and the whole place ran on a rhythmic beat resembling a heart in love.
But then I turned eighteen, and with that age came a frightening set of knowledge and powers. I realized that I –- only I -– could make Duenna a better place. A safer place. Off with the laughing women in long-sleeved saris. Off with the men with minds for family. I would create a stable economy, a world without plague.
Not only did I destroy my dream-like society, but I inflicted a new kind of pain upon those I’d wanted to help.
Milky-blue eyes melt in a downpour of tears. My voice cracks. Not even my office walls can support me. I cry for the ones forgotten, the ones in pain.
I cry for every poor, lost soul who still thinks I am a good person.
Soon my tears match the rhythm of the rain on my window.

[Titanhawk 881 (JT)]

sorry if the setting isn't that good, i am terrible at making up names
Looking for olives, the man reached into his refrigerator. “Olives.... I must have run out of them! I’ll go buy them later...” he thought to himself. “TODY!!! Note market place at 11 to get olives!” No response came. Wondering, he treaded on a holographic ramp that blinked to life and lead to the next floor. He found Tody upside down, shut down. “Looking for something?” a synthetic voice behind him snarled. The man whirled around, to come face-to-face with an OmNiarii boar and its rider, who was concealed by a dark, seamless, metal cowl. In one hand was his jar of olives, and in his other he was twirling an Ion powered plasma wave generator, modified to something like a firearm. “Have fun in the vestige,” the figure whispered, and the next moment, he was gone. The man looked around him, startled by the sudden heat. Glancing around, he saw that his house- or what was left of it- had almost been levelled and was smouldering. He never lived to see what happened next.
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Casting a fleeting look, Chase made sure no one was looking his way before he peered through a window into someone’s home, where the owner of the home was watching on a HD curved screen and eating popcorn. Occasionally, Chase was able to catch slivers of the conversation on the news. “And, last week, a top scientist at Omnilynk was found, incinerated; only after he was disentangled and brought to the lab was he identified as the famed Pierce Kovarn. His murderer is unknown and how his house was levelled is also a mystery.” Chase looked down and saw his shoes were turning off, and quickly powered them up again. Suddenly, the hologlass fractured, and Chase looked up. The owner of the house had apparently seen Chase, and was now cursing and shouting. Chase tore down the road in fear of the man deploying a drone, everyone’s security system, and slipped back into his hideout. Since becoming an orphan eight years ago, he was quite well off. He grew his own food, has his own water supply from an old hydrogen fuel cell, occasionally even receiving supplies from an anonymous source. But it couldn’t be his family. Chase’s family lived in an old, out of the way town that used to be known as Thrace. That was when the trouble began. When Governor Haldexor became mayor, he saw Thrace as a place of poverty, and held liable over population. So he commanded that each household only have one child. The rest was history; Chase was kicked out and over the years they had lost contact. Unlike others though, he didn’t go to the orphanage and as a result, Chase didn’t enjoy the luxury of an entertainment screen, which was why he had been watching on someone else’s- they were too expensive for a boy without a job. Well actually, that wasn’t really true: he did have a job. Chase collected old bottles and cans, and traded them in for cash at the return centre; somewhere along the process they would get melted and made into new bottles and cans. A knock snapped Chase back into the present. Peering at the screen from the camera, he saw that there were two people standing at his door. One donned a cloak, and was holding a discus-like sonic boomerang. The other had hot pink hair and wore a jumpsuit. They looked alike, and probably worked for a municipality, though Chase couldn’t tell yet which one. “Open the door!” the one in the cape said. Obviously Chase didn’t open it for a stranger; instead, he hid in a corner. “Guess we’ll have to do it the hard way then,” said the woman with the pink hair. Chase breathed hard, and attempted to clamber up to the window, when he heard an explosion blow the roof, and felt bits of debris fall on his head. He quickly scrambled out the window and dashed down the street, occasionally glancing behind his shoulder for any sign of his pursuers. Not so smart eh? They must want to take me to the orphanage! He thought. Suddenly, he heard the rumble of an engine, and spotted two hover bikes speeding at him. Chase took a side alley and dived into some undergrowth, then sprinted towards a tree. Leaping up, he almost grasped a low branch, but something pulled his ankle, and he crashed to the ground, making the fatal mistake of yelling out in pain. The two pursuers steered their hover bikes in his direction. A voice said “Quick! Get in!” and Chase readily obeyed, squirming into a tunnel at the root of a tree. At the end of the tunnel there was a huge room, all dug into the ground under the tree. But what surprised him most was that there were no residents, even though someone had spoken to him. Then, out of nowhere, two figures stepped out into the room. One had a large cut, and was obviously human. The other was a purring, blue eyed snowy leopard. “Who let you in?!” The stocky man demanded. “I-I-I don’t know. Someone pulled me and told me to come in here!” The man turned to his right and called out. “Erik!!! Did you let this stranger in? How many times do I have to tell you!?”
“I’m sorry father. He was a runaway just like us! I couldn’t let Zina and Merkas catch him! It... You know how it feels!”
“We don’t have kindness to spend on people! Nor sympathy, empathy, nor hospitality! We’re..” Then the man turned to Chase. “Get out! We don’t need another mouth to feed here! You’ll just cause us more trouble than we already have!” Chase gave a grim look, and slipped back out. Outside, they were waiting, waiting to take him to the orphanage. As he expected, the instant they saw him, the one called Merkas threw his boomerang. It swivelled over Chase, and suddenly discharged a net. Chase rolled out of the way, but the net had trapped part of his leg. It suddenly delivered a shock, and Chase cried out in pain. Then everything went black.
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When Chase roused, it was gelid and the floor was... not really there. He was suspended, hanging in the middle of some invisible field. He felt for his pockets, and pulled out a piece of emergency snacks. While munching, he thought “Why did they take me here? This isn’t the orphanage!” Then he glanced into the vacant, isolated space, and spotted a door. As he swum towards it, he felt a twitching pain in his side. Ignoring the sting, he continued, only to find the door blocked. “Of course it’s locked, you brainless street urchin!” Chase thought. “Well, all I can do now is wait for the prison sentence to end, for them to let me out,” he said to himself. Suddenly, with a din reverberation, the door opened. Standing at the door was... Erik. “What are you doing here? Shoo, you’ll get caught!” but Erik refused to move. “Well? Do you wanna get out or what? I didn’t steal my dad’s sonic oscillator and knock fifteen people out cold just to argue with you! Now come on!” Erik proceeded to drag Chase out of the field, and lug him down the corridors. The resonance of some guards’ footsteps ringed through the hall from behind them, startling Chase and Erik into a sprinting dash, a squad of guards right behind them. “Err... you don’t have a plan, do you?”Chase asked.
“Nope. Make that yes- RUN!!!!
As they continued to run, the trepidation of the moment seemed to be accentuated- guards from one hallway and another kept coming. They were terminated. Out of nowhere, another guard popped his head into the hallway, and motioned them to follow him. The boys shrugged and followed him, with nothing better in their minds. He launched them out of an open window, and then pretended he was chasing them. They waved a hand and landed in a tree outside. The guards on duty outside instantly reacted, perceiving them as a threat, and they swarmed towards Chase and Erik. Leaping over logs and stones, they almost reached the fence. But only almost- the guards fired their weapons and pursued them farther. They turned sharply to the right, into a gloomy dark forest. Deeper into the woods, the guards chased them by bounding in the trees, but eventually turned back, appearing apprehensive.
“What do you think is in these woods?” Chase asked.
“I don’t know… but the guards seemed scared to get in farther.” Erik replied.
“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
As the boys set up camp for the night, they told stories about their past. Well, Chase did most of the talking, but Erik also hinted implications of his troubles as a child.  
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Lying on the spongy damp ground wasn’t the best way to spend the night. After countless hours of wriggling and tossing on his patch of earth Chase calmed himself and fell into a restless sleep, hovering between the real and surreal world. He could hear the nocturnal birds cooing and whooping, but his eyes refused to open and his brain was drifting, drifting into a faraway obscured dream. Chase bolted upright, listening for the pawing he had picked up earlier. Nothing more sounded though. Going back to sleep, he soon heard it again. The stealthy tread of a hunter, or something along those lines. Chase silently unzipped the tent and glanced around discreetly, as not to alert whatever was near them. Across the clearing and behind a ragged bush was the white, blotchily spotted fur of a snowy leopard. It gazed into his soul with its intense grey eyes, and yawned to show off its unnatural fangs, which gleamed metallic. That’s when Chase noticed its tail-it had carbonic studs sticking out. Obviously, this creature was no ordinary pet. Chase shook Erik awake and pointed silently at the leopard. He seemed to recognize the creature, and then crawled out of the tent. “Kormak, is that you?” The leopard seemed to nod, and then silently bounded towards Erik. Erik turned around to meet Chase’s eyes and whispered “this is my pet. We brought him over from... from our homeland. You saw him earlier, in my house.” Chase vaguely remembered a snowy leopard in the tree room, before he was caught. Kormak suddenly flicked his tail and growled, his eyes now trained on a piece of brush. Chase thought he caught the glint of metal before a swift motion followed. What happened next was a confusing series of blows from an unseen attacker. But soon it was all over, and the attacker had left them on the forest floor, Kormak licking the forehead of Erik. Chase pried one eye open, swollen as it was, but could not find any trace of the attacker. Then, blood running down creases on his face, he collapsed, his last sight the glimmering stars.

[LittleDancer]

So this is my story for this week, its actually a part of my book that I wrote this week and so it will be much much much longer when the whole story is finished. Also I'm not sure if the word "sugh" is a word I made up or heard somewhere and so sorry if I did not make it up and it might be changed anyways. Also Sorry if its not that great I didn't have very much time for editing but here ya go.

Living outside of Mayhem was harder then it seemed. So many complained about the living conditions inside of Mayhem but living outside of the city was much harder. I got the brunt of the work, it was just me and mom at home, or the small shack that we called home. I used up nearly all the time I had taking care of mom and getting us our daily needs.
Every morning I would wake up in the early hours of the morning, the frost visible on my breath, my lungs burning with icy air. Mom would rise with dark circles around her eyes, and her hair disheveled and a pale look on her face. I would leave almost without a word, cautiously putting on the threadbare shawl that was one of the only things I called my own.
The Sugh was the worst part of Mayhem, and it was barely inside the city limits. But it was the closest I had ever been to the city, I had been there many times in my life. The day mom suffered from alchohol poisoning and I had to rush to the Sugh in the dead of night purchasing medicine that cost us every penny we had.
The Sugh was never a nice place to be, the stench of the place was overwhelming and was almost enough to make you want to hurl. I was used to the smell though, as horrible as the place was it was the only place I could find acception from other people. I traded the small amount of herbs that I knew how to gather in the little wilderness we had in the barren land.
I would also collect garbage from around the city limits, cashing it in for some money. It was something most of the kids did to bring in some extra money. When I was younger the older kids would beat me up for going in their territory.
Corman always bought my herbs, he was quite old, his teeth crooked and rotting and his eyes with hardly any sight left in them. One of his eyes was glazed over, burn marks marred half of his face. He would bring each bag of herbs up to his nose sniffing and looking me in the eyes as best he could.
I would sell my garbage to Leia, she was probably a few years older than me, but then again no one really knew one’s age anymore, if we survived another day we were lucky, she looked down at me but took what I had to offer and gave me a small amount of money. I always made it home by nightfall, not wanting to get caught by bounty hunters or the carvines.
Bounty Hunters never went a kilometer past the Sugh and so our house was out of danger. Sometimes we would see them lurking, waiting to pounce on innocent prey and take them to Mayhem. No one knew what would happen to them if they got caught, but no one would come back to tell us what would happen.
Carvines were a different story, once the sun was down the carvines were in their prime. Their only weakness was fire or light, we had to be sure to keep a torch outside, burning with Acaine oil, something that was harvested from a small stinging plant. The oil burned for days and it worked well to keep the carvines away. The carvines lived up to their name, many times we found victims, marred and carved to bits.
Every week there was a burial for those who had died, seems that more and more died but there was just as many people left. I never could bring myself to attend the burials, no one really could. Nobody went unless it was a family member. Tears smarted at my eyes at that thought, he was definitely someone close.
The day he died was the worst day of my life. It was one of the special days that mom was sober. Daniel was going to get us food from the Sugh, it was my birthday. Back then it was my brother that always went to the Sugh and I would stay home with mom, we both did our share of work and we were genuinely happy. He said he would be back within the hour.
I head the carvine growl and howl. I knew right away that something was wrong, carvines never came this close to the house. I rushed out the door and grabbed the torch that stood as centurion at the door. I froze, the torch dropped out of my hand. My chest collapsed and I my throat was dying to scream but nothing came out, tension built until finally my voice cracked and I screamed. My ears seemed deaf and dull, barely hearing anything and my vision blurred, making everything blurry and far off.

XxxxxX

My opens opened quickly. I retracted into a ball to keep warm, the thin covers offered little protection from the cold and so I got up and quickly dressed. The breakfast was made but I had no appetite to eat so I left it on our makeshift stove for mom. She would be happy for some extra food. My boots were almost worn through but I could make them last for another winter. I pulled the shawl over my shoulders. I set off with a small bag slung across my chest containing a miniscule amount of money and a loaf of the hard black bread that Kari sells in the Sugh. I felt a pang of guilt, after what I had done I knew I would not be able to look her in the eyes again.
I soon got to the Sugh but set my jaw and walked past. I reached into my bag and pulled the small slip of paper from my bag. I opened it up to gaze at the words printed on the page. It excited me knowing how to read, not many people could read. I credit my father for my reading abilities, my father ran away from Mayhem. But one day… They took him away, the bounty hunters got him. We never saw him again.
Pushing all of the sad thoughts out of my mind, I came to the gates of the city. I say gates but really it is more of a barricade with guards all around. One of the guards held up his hand. I took off my bag and handed it to him. He rifled through it and took out the paper. He read it briefly and returned it to my bag. He nodded me over and I reluctantly stepped forward. He grabbed my arm and rolled up my sleeve, without even hesitating he grabbed a needle and jabbed it into my arm, squeezing a blue syringe into my arm.
“You’re free to go” He said gruffly. TO BE CONTINUED

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