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Tue Oct 18, 2011 11:18 pm
Bronk says...



Prologue

The infant wailed as Jayston Hart set her down on the metal operating table. Shakily grasping a nearby needle, he injected his small child, watching as her eyelids slowly drooped and she fell asleep. Knowing that the injection would give him no more than a few hours, he inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and cautiously made a cut. He then picked up the microchip and carefully wired it into his week old daughter's brain.


Chapter 1

I cowered noiselessly against the wall, peering around the corner, watching as my father, Jayston Hart, was shoved forward by a heavily built, armed policeman. I felt a lump form in my throat, tears burning my eyes.

I felt so helpless, so vulnerable, just standing there, my body pressed tightly against the wall. If one of them just shifted their gaze a couple of inches, I would be spotted, and who knows what would happen then. I bit down on my lip, hard, and could taste the bitter blood in my mouth. I had to prevent myself from crying out, from letting them know my location, letting them see my weakness.

"Where is she? Where is the girl?" A policeman snapped. I recognized the voice from somewhere, just couldn't match it to a name. My father muttered something in a hushed tone, far too quiet for me to hear.

"Tell me or I will use force to get it out of you." He said, voice rising. Another word came from my father, barely audible. I took a glance around the corner just in time to see the policeman swing a hard punch at my father's stomach. He doubled over and let out a muffled cry. The policeman went to take another swing when I made up my mind. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't just stand there and watch the only person I had ever cared about be injured like this. Without much consideration, I stepped out into the open. My father looked up and spotted me, then burst into tears. I had never seen my father like this. I hated it, wanted it to stop. Then one of them turned.

A boy around my age, sixteen, turned and saw me first. I recognized him and by the way he looked at me, I immediately knew that he recognized me as well. I had absolutely no clue where I recognized him from though. Then again, I didn't really care enough to think about it. He looked as if he was considering pointing me out, then finalized his decision, deciding to stick with his duty.

"There she is." The boy simply stated. The man who I assumed was the head policeman turned, his mouth immediately cracking into a cruel sneer.

"Good job, son. You must be Braelyn Hart. Pleased to meet you. Well, aren't you a pretty little thing. Too bad you have to die."



~

If there is one thing that I hate more than anything in the world, this had to be it. Sitting in my holding cell, wrists and ankles bound by chains so tight, blood seeped out from under them. The words of the policeman replayed over and over in my head. 'Too bad you have to die'. Well, isn't that a swell thing to hear after a compliment.

I had spent about four hours in my cell now, awaiting my death. Turns out, it's not a very joyful pastime. I am not the most patient person ever, so sitting there waiting for a guard to lead me to my death was torture on it's own.

It felt like I had been sitting there forever when a somebody finally came to my cell. I soon realized that it was the same boy who had pointed me out to the head policeman. I could feel the pure hatred boiling inside of me as he walked into my cell, head down as if ashamed of his actions. With him he brought a cart piled with small plates and meager helpings of something that I assumed was supposed to be food clinging to them.

"Uh, hi." The boy said. "I, I brought you some food." He looked up at me for just a second then reached over, taking a plate from the cart and quickly handed it to me. I practically inhaled it and still needed more. The boy took a step towards the door and pulled out the key. He was about to open it when I interrupted.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, sounding far more dramatic than I had expected, "Please stay. I, umm, would like to talk to somebody, you know, having to die soon and all." I tried to giggle nervously, but it came out sounding somewhat like a goat being trampled by a herd of elephants.

"I think that's against the rules." He stated.

"Please?" I put on an act, using my best and most pathetic pleading face. I would do anything to get that food.

"Okay." The boy said shyly, stepping away from the door.

"Come sit here beside me." I quickly glanced at the bench beside me, then back at the boy. He slowly stepped toward me. I could sense his nervousness, so I flashed him a wide smile, no doubt looking stupid.

"So, what's your name?" I said once he sat down, as if this was just a casual conversation and I wasn't a sixteen year old girl being held captive in a Government building and chained to a wall.

"Aarinn. My name is Aarinn Price." He said, clearly avoiding eye contact.

"Aarinn Price. That's a cool name." I ran a bunch of random questions and statements through my mind, organizing the entire conversation before it even happened. "I'm Braelyn Hart. How old are you?"

"Sixteen." Aarinn said.

"Me too. Why are you here, like, at this job?" I pretended to be interested in any of this, but I couldn't take my mind off of the sloppy excuse for food that was sitting right there in front of me.

"My dad. He is the chief policeman. I am being forced to work here." He looked up at me and held his gaze for a while, about a minute later dropping it to the floor again. I found it slightly creepy but resisted the temptation to shoot a rude remark at him.

The conversation went on for about two hours, us talking about our lives, why we are here, and other completely random things. I didn't care for this type of conversation, but I went along with it. He had just finished a disturbing story about how they execute the prisoners here when I broke and asked the question.

"May I have some more to eat? I'm so hungry and I would rather die on a full stomach than an empty one." I made myself sound utterly pathetic and weak when I said this, but that didn't matter as long as I got the food.

"Um, I don't know. This food is for the other prisoners." After he said this, I made myself look as disappointed as possible. It easily broke him. "Okay. Just eat until you're full."

I ate until I was about to burst, almost clearing the cart. Aarinn stared wide eyed at all the plates that I had cleared. He looked surprised that I could eat that much, but soon seemed to understand. A plan suddenly popped into my mind. If I could just get him as an ally, that could be my ticket out of here. He lifted his head and stared into my eyes for quite a long time before getting up and loading the plates onto the cart. I struggled to hold my gaze and stare back into his eyes. It was more challenging than I thought, but I managed to achieve it.

"If they don't kill me today, will you come back tomorrow?" I said, trying not to crack up at the how pitiful that sounded.

"Yes." Aarinn simply stated, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.
Bronk
  





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Wed Oct 19, 2011 8:57 am
titikemp says...



The idea for this story, or what i know of it so far, seems really interesting. There was a small grammar error: "when a somebody finally came to my cell" You added an awkward 'a' in there, but other than that, the story was very good. Your writing is a little busy though. The voice sounds rushed to me, like someone's talking very fast. Just take it slow, add some details, and space out some information, but you should deffinatly continue this story. I'm very interested to see what happens. :)

P.S. I feel so bad for Aarinn! He's really cute and she's being kind of mean, tricking him and all :(
“Miracles only happen to people who don’t give up!” –Ivan
  





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Thu Oct 27, 2011 2:56 am
Butterfly18 says...



Hello, Bronk.

I'd first like to say, very interesting concept.

Now to the writing itself. I feel like your prologue was a bit rushed and an info-dump. You should take the time to let us know the character, understand whats going through his mind at this moment, why is he about to inject his infant daughter? Is it a tough decision to inject her? Is she sick, is he helping, or is she fine and he's experimenting?

Now for chapter one, when it comes to writing first person you really have to watch your overuse of 'I'. You used I a fair bit. Also, a lot of what is happening and being felt and seen is being told, you need to show more.
So for example, instead of saying,

I felt so helpless, so vulnerable, just standing there, my body pressed tightly against the wall. (Telling)

Say something like,

My heart raced, a sinking feeling swelled in the pit of my stomach as I pressed myself against the wall. I couldn't be spotted. (Showing) We get the idea that the character is helpless and vulnerable because they are hiding and are scared.

Other than that, this is very interesting. :)

Hope this helps you, Bronk. :)
  








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