Sunday, November 27, 2011

WhaBAAAM!

*confetti cannon*

WRITE AWAY HAS HIT 1000 PAGEVIEWS!!! MILESTONE RIGHT THERE!

Skittlez and I would like to thank you guys from the bottoms of our livers. (See my thought of the day today: Link here)

Thank you so much, you are awesome... I like pie.

Muchos gracias,

Arabesque

Find Me--Chapter 5 ~Dillon~


“Couldn’t you escape?” I ask the next morning at breakfast.
“People have tried,” Chase responds, “but no one has since they threatened to kill anyone they catch.” Skye and Olivia both stare at him, open mouthed.
“Kill them?” Skye repeats in shock. Chase nods gravely.
“But don’t they need workers?” I ask.
“The figure anyone who’s rebellious enough to try to escape wouldn’t make a very worthy worker,” Chase answers. “They made this rule a couple years back when a sixteen-year-old guy tried escaping and after they caught him, tried killing the officials here.” I’ve only been here for a day, but I can’t say I blame him.
I push open the door to the stuffy factory with Violet and Chase following behind me. In the midst of making a pair of shoes, I try to figure out what we’re supposed to do next. The idea of escaping seemed like a pretty good one, until I learned the risk. Even if we did manage to escape, where would we go? I was clueless as to where our village is. But we couldn’t just stay here either.
“How do you stand it?” I ask them. “Staying here with no freedom and being ordered around.”
“I don’t know,” Chase sighs, “I’m not sure I really can stand it.”
“I suppose we just got used to the constricted lifestyle,” Violet tells me. “I wish there was something I could do for Scarlet’s sake, but I don’t know what.”
“Scarlet’s sake?”
“Yeah…I guess I just feel sorry that she didn’t have as long of a good life before we came here as I did.” I think about my life before my parents were killed, but recently, that time has been hard to remember.
When I was younger, about six, we would all sit by the fireplace in the winter. My mother would knit and I would sit on my father’s lap and he’d tell me stories. My favorite story was a true one. For the first Thanksgiving my father and mother spent together, he wanted to snag a turkey for dinner. But after a whole day of hunting, he hadn't come across any turkeys, and by the time it was dark, he hadn't shot anything. The last thing he wanted to do was go home empty handed, but he couldn’t hunt in the dark. He sulked home, shrouded with guilt that he hadn’t caught any meat for dinner. My mother wasn’t angry or disappointed. She simply said that they weren’t hurt, hungry, or dying and they should be thankful for that. They didn’t have turkey every day and made it along fine, so why is Thanksgiving any different? They had each other, and that was all that mattered. That was one thing my parents always tried to teach me; to look at what you do have, rather than what you don’t.
At twelve, we report to the dining hall for lunch. Scarlet attempts starting conversation several times before realizing that none of us, including her, are really in the mood for talking today. For the next half hour, we all pick at the vegetable stew we were given.
“Who do you think could’ve done this?” I hear an official ask as we’re walking down the stairs to the basement after lunch. Shards of glass sit under an open window frame. The nearby walls were dotted with perfect, round bullet holes.
“I don’t know,” Headmistress Baumann sighs. “But we have to make sure no one attacks the building again. We can’t afford anyone getting hurt by whoever did this.” An official sweeps up the broken glass, and everyone clears out. I begin to continue down the stairs, and then catch the pain stricken expression wiped across Skye’s face. Marcus catches it too.
“No,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opens them again, a tear glides down her cheek. She looks at me pitifully. I know what fear is running through her mind. It’s not as though we didn’t see the men finding us a possibility, we just didn’t want to believe they would. But now, that was reality. It could’ve just as easily been some drunken man with a gun, but something in me just knew that it wasn’t.
“What are we supposed to do?” Skye asks in distress.
“There’s nothing we can really do but wait and see what happens next,” I answer and wrap my arms around her. The weight of her head rests on my shoulder.
While working, I still can’t think of a way to escape, but while the risk of getting caught escaping is big, the risk of staying here might be greater.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

ANTIDYSTOPIA by Skittlez & Arabesque - Chapter Five

Chapter Five
Warryn Dywynyx

                “Sire, Lady Zephyr has returned,” my loyal servant, Tervaquen announces.
                Zephyr, my niece, walks into the room with her usual grace. She is wearing a plain white dress and her hair is twisted back simply, tied with an ivory ribbon. Her beauty and elegance is always astonishing; she is a spitting image of my sister, Criseliania or Crissy as we call her.
                “Hello uncle, I’m back from my stay in Surubi, and I’ll go back in a week,” she tells me.
                I smile, decide to cut to the chase and outright say, “What information have you collected, what has happened?”
                She explains that she is currently working as a maid to the new self-proclaimed queen, a girl named Heruna. Heruna is apparently advised by Eralia. At the sound of her name I scowl; that dastardly woman. Constantly manipulating things, trying to adjust the future for the so-called benefit of “the people” when it’s really just for the Elites. Her husband Kolan as well, the irritating person he is. However, surprisingly Zephyr seems unaware of Kolan and continues on about how Heruna has improved Surubi already. Amazingly, she’s begun restoration quite efficiently. Implementing rules, organizing resources and the people seem accepting of this. I doubt a sixteen-year-old girl could come up with this and execute it so smoothly. I’m contemplating how it is that Eralia and Kolan are pulling the strings on this when Zephyr interrupts my thoughts.
                “The only speed bump they’ve hit so far is a small rebellion a few days ago,” Zephyr explains, “some angry people tried to burn down the government building, but the Elites stopped them.”
                A rebellion, just the sparks I need to ignite a fire that will burn down Surubi so I can conquer the ashes. I decide that whoever arranged this on such short notice should be invited into my plot.
                “Get me in contact with whomever it is that was in charge of this little rebellion.”
                Zephyr nods and walks away. I take my phone off the table and dial the Elites’ phone number.
                “Hello?” a man’s voice answers.
                “Ahem, I would like to speak to Eralia. Who is this?” I say, hoping whoever is on the other line won’t recognize me.
                “This is Prescott. Dywynyx? Is that you? Oh, I think it is. Bye!” and he hangs up. I sigh.
               
***
                Later, I am doing my duty as leader of Toire, dealing with the common people. Sisters come in, squabbling about who owns the plot of land their father left to them since he did not specify which of them. An orphan comes and asks for some food and a job as a servant. A prisoner begs for pardon. A man is put on trial for killing his wife, and he is convicted and sentenced to life in prison.
                At council, we hold a meeting to discuss what to do about this Heruna girl, but nothing happens of importance and I leave feeling dissatisfied. I decide that whoever started that little rebellion should be encouraged to defeat Heruna and the Elites. The orphan boy, Anthony, is standing outside the door of our conference room, and as I leave, he stops me.
                “Sire, perhaps you could send someone to approach whoever it is in Surubi. To befriend this person, and to encourage them and plant ideas in their mind,” Anthony suggests. He is a little younger than Landyn, my son, a boy of seventeen; tall, with daring blue eyes and somewhat curly blonde hair.
                I think for a moment and then respond, “Yes, indeed that would be a good idea. When we find out the age of this person, I’ll send someone out. If it’s someone your age, you can go.” I’m positive it won’t be, but if it is I will send him, so technically it’s not lying. He nods, and walks away.

***
                We go through much work to find out who started the rebellion. I have Zephyr listen in on conversations, ask around and see who was suspected. In the end, we find our boy, a dashing young man named Zakyas Rymaire. Surprisingly, I end up sending Anthony to go accompany Zakyas and try to encourage thoughts of the demise of Heruna and the Elites. We dress him in Surubi attire, give him a list of priorities, and send him off with nothing but a backpack and hope.
                The plan is for him to travel with Zephyr, but then part ways and have him wander and “happen to” meet Zakyas. Zephyr informs me that Zakyas has interacted with Heruna closely, and we hope that he is more conniving than we expected.
                We wait for several weeks before receiving news in the form of a phone call. Anthony has been staying at the Rymaire household, and was easily welcomed.
                “He has an older sister named Tarynn,” Anthony blabbers. I’m not really listening, so I interrupt his speech on the food and say,
                “Cut to the chase. What about Heruna?”
                “Well, he’s talked about her. The thing is, it seems more like he loves her than he hates her.”
                “Impossible. Why would he set off a rebellion against her if he loved her?”
                “I don’t think he did, sir, because he’s not very violent and at mention of the uprising he seems pained… Not to question anybody, but is it possible you got this wrong? I doubt it’s Zakyas. I can make a clean escape; say that you’re my uncle and I’m going to live with you… Sir?”
                I pause before saying anything. If it’s not this Zakyas fellow, who could it be? Who could assemble thousands of angry people and set fire to a building within a day?
                “Very well, you may leave. I’ll send you out for something else later though. Don’t think you’ve won quite yet,” I say, the last sentence partly directed towards the Elites. I hang up and continue pondering. Don’t think you’ve won quite yet.

Just so you know, tentative sched (yes, sched) for ANTIDYSTOPIA is up on my blog, Random Thoughts. Check it out to see when the next awesome chapter is comin' out.
Hope you guys enjoy it. :)
Mucho Gracias,
Arabesque

Saturday, November 12, 2011

The Results are in!!!

Okay so my poll ended (after like forever!) and here are the results:

Skye: 10 votes 18%
Dillon: 10 votes 18%
Olivia: 10 votes 18%
Marcus: 10 votes 18%
Rose: 10 votes 18%
Other: 4 votes 7%

Of course everyone (except other) tied at 10. Of course...

♥Skittlez

Friday, November 4, 2011

ANTIDYSTOPIA by Skittlez & Arabesque--Chapter Four

Chapter 4

Zakyas

I can’t stop thinking of her. Her dark brown hair with the streaks of natural blonde, those bright hazel eyes, so kind and beautiful. I can’t think of anything else. I think about her soft pink lips, parted slightly, taunting me because I cannot kiss them. Heruna. She is the definition of natural beauty. Ever since we saw each other when she was rationing food, I haven’t had a thought without her face appearing in my mind.

I’m lying in my bed, thinking of what I can do to stop this heartache, this longing for her. Suddenly, I hear shouting and the firing of guns. Fire illuminates the night sky. I jump out of bed and get my family. Tarynn, mom, dad, we’re all fine. We agree that it’s safer in the confines of our house rather to go outside and be stormed by the angry mob. Tarynn peeks through the curtains; when she turns back around her face is stricken.

“I—I think there are people rebelling against Heruna,” she gasps. I freeze. Heruna? In danger? Suddenly, I feel the need to rush out and get Heruna out. When there’s fire in Surubi, it tends to end in death. I grab my jacket and am about to head out the door when my father puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Zakyas Rymaire, what do you think you’re doing? It’s a full-fledged uprising out there with fire and crazy people and you’re about to go out there? Son, I can’t let you; it’s too dangerous,” he tells me.

I don’t absorb half of what he says after this, because I’m scheming on how to sneak out and see if Heruna is okay. I nod as though I understand, and after he returns to the kitchen, I quietly head out the door. I sprint towards the building, darting and dodging through the crowd. Luckily, people are too angry and focused upon the big government building to pay any attention to me. I stop and catch my breath when I reach the back of the building; the side where no one will see me. I noted as I was running that the bottom of the building was aflame, but the back wasn’t. I knew it was impossible to scale the building, but what else could I do?

My thoughts are interrupted by someone tapping on my shoulder. I turn to see a young man standing before me.

“She likes you, you know,” he says as if the building wasn’t on fire in front of us. “You should go for it.” Here I am; with the girl I loved trapped in a burning building, and a guy I didn’t know telling me she likes me back.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Prescott,” he answers

“What do you suggest to do about the government building?” I ask looking at the raging fire. I turn to face him again, only to find that he’s gone.

How can I get in there? How can I get Heruna out?

Suddenly, before my very eyes, Heruna comes sprinting out of the building. She runs into my arms and whimpers,

“Oh Zakyas, what’s going on here? Why did they set the building on fire?” I don’t answer. I stand there embracing her, stroking her hair, feeling relieved that she’s safe in my arms.

“Heruna,” someone calls. A young woman comes up behind her.

“Eralia, what’s going on here?” she asks, breaking away from me.

“They’re rebelling,” she says. “We have to stop them. C’mon, Heruna.”

“Who are you?” I ask.

“My name is Eralia,” she replies. “I am one of the Elites.” Before I can ask what the “Elites” are, Eralia pulls Heruna into the mass of people.

“People!” she shouts through a bull-horn another Elite handed to her. “Why are you doing this? Heruna has given you all food, stopped violence, and spared many lives. And what do you do? Attack her and set fire to her building?” Then, Eralia, Prescott, and some other young men and women I assume are also Elites disperse throughout the crowd of hectic people and point guns at them. I want to further question Prescott, but he seems pretty preoccupied.

I spot a familiar face in the crowd. I’m shocked to see that it was Ira. She had always seemed so innocent and kind; not the kind that would do this sort of thing. She catches my eye contact and holds my gaze. Her eyes enlarge in surprise, and then her face possesses a sad, almost guilty expression.

For the next hour or so, I stand out of harm’s way, and watch as the Elites incite the angry mob to flee from the scene. Four of the Elites douse the fire with a hose until the now charred building is no longer consumed by flame.

“You should get home,” Eralia says, coming up from behind me. Things had quieted down now and the only people around were Elites gathering stray arrows and other things that the gang had left behind.

“Okay, I will,” I respond sleepily. Before heading home, I walk over to Heruna, who is sitting on the road gazing at the burned building.

“Bye Zakyas,” she says, looking at me with a distressed expression in her eyes.

“Bye Heruna,” I reply. I crouch down next to her and stroke her hair. “See you tomorrow.”

When I slide open the door and tiptoe inside the house, Tarynn is sitting on the couch staring at the curtain covered window.

“Oh Zakyas,” she says, and breathes a sigh of relief, “I’m so glad you’re okay. What were you thinking? Running straight into a big fight like that?”

“Shh,” I hiss, “you’ll wake mom and dad.”

“But why’d you take that big of a risk; even after dad told you not to go?” she whispers. I sit next to her on the couch and say,

“I don’t know,” trying to be as convincing as possible.

“Just tell me,” she persists.

“The building was on fire and there were people with weapons. I needed to make sure Heru—I mean everyone was okay.” A sly smile grows on Tarynn’s previously panicked face.

“I understand now,” says with a faint laugh. “You like Heruna.”

“I do not,” I argue, face turning red. “And lower your voice,” I say louder than I intended.

“So you like Heruna,” she repeats, giggling.

“Well…well you probably like Myka or something,” I counter. Her smile fades and she falls silent. Her face reddens too.

“How did you know I liked him?” she asks, slightly irritated. Now I’m the one who’s laughing.

“I didn’t…until you told me two seconds ago,” I point out. She gives me a slap on my shoulder, and then starts laughing again.

“We better get to sleep,” she says. We walk down the hall to our rooms.

“Goodnight Tarynn,” I whisper.

“Goodnight,” she responds before closing her door.

Lying in bed later, trying to find sleep, I am soon disgusted at myself for laughing after experiencing the rebellion against Heruna. It was a big group that attacked her. They seemed capable of causing some serious destruction on Surubi.

What if they took over? What if Heruna got hurt?