Friday, February 25, 2005

   A Night At Chambo
Hey people!!!! Ok so Kayleigh basically called my posts boring so i'm gonna try and make them more interesting because god forbid that Kayeigh would be unhappy...jk Kayeligh. Anyways yesterday in chorus this one girl asked if anyone was coming to the talent show that night. So me and my friend Lexi decide to go. I read on Chambo's website that it was from 6 to 10 so i'm like ok. Lexi and I get there and the school is completely empty except for night school people. So Lexi and I decide to wait till 7. Anyways 4 rapes have happened in that area in the past week so it creeped Lexi and me out. It got really dark and we basically roamed the empty halls of Chambo. I decide to go out to the gym and am locked out of the halls so Lexi had to come open the door for me. Lexi and I go back outside and I look at the Chambo billboard sign and it said the talent show had started at 3pm that afternoon. So Lexi called up her friend and I called my sis. Lexi's friend gets there and nearly runs me over. Lexi and I sit in his car till my sis came and I went with her. Actually it's a longer story but god forbid I bore you. Omg...my cell phone explodes in 5 days 19 hours and 19 minutes...don't ask...only Kayleigh will get that. Anyways tomorrow Kayleigh, Ambre', and I are risking our lives and going into Abercrombie and Fitch ::shudder::. I will tell you all about it asap. Anyways here's part of the story that Kayleigh and I are working on. It's called...The Story.

The young chamberlain high school freshman glanced about her while dodging the postal power-walking principle to pass through the wave ghetto people, followed by Abercrombians. She began to feel out of place as she turned her gaze to a to stare in wonder at a lone ghetto girl in stiletto heels hobbling down the crowed 200 hall. She sighed. Her mind now made up, she ran to her first period, barely making the tardy bell, she knew that something had to change. And she happened to know just what.

As the girl climbed the mud-smeared steps of bus 4125, she prepared herself for the unmistakable stench of B.O. Once accustomed to the dank odor, she waited placently for her friend to arrive.

Anyways that's not all of it...it's still in the works. And just to make Kayleigh even more happy...i'm posting her story.
The girl stumbled into the clearing, devoid of all conscious or rational thought. Her mouth was slack-jawed, eyes cold as stone, holding no sign of intelligence. Her skin was rabid with fever, seeming to radiate with heat and her sickness. Her body was wary with the Sickness, not a trace of strength left to her name-her arms and hands shook in tiring determination, worn with calluses and scars, her feet cut up from the lack of shoes and walking the crude woods floor. Pine needles stabbed at her feet, pricking her feet, leaving a trail of blood to all who would love to follow her the scent and sight of her blood. Her slightly scrambled mind willed herself to go on, pressed on her tired and failing body. The only thing, the only hope that she held onto was to die loved, to die among those who actually wanted to help her, not help her because their job, she wanted to die in love-but she knew she would never be loved back though. She knew that even at a young age-it was like a shadow that was cursed to follow her every foot step. It was only her nature to push people away and hurt others through her snide and snarling comments. She hated people, letting no one through the thick barrier that kept her heart safe from other people’s pain. But the outer skin was to thin, she heard of these fairytales no matter where she went, in books, Disney movies, and in school work, but they not only bored her but also proved to be false under intense studies, from watching every couple’s moves, from those that fell victim to her gazing sharp gray eyes at the mall to the couples that divorced in the stories and gossip from her mother’s constant gabble. No, she thought, I shall never love. She decided to die alone. The girl shuffled on through the woods.

She stumbled into the clearing, walking like a drunk, swerving and struggling with every step to stay upright and balanced as her world shimmered with black dots that floated and danced effortlessly and weightlessly across her eyesight. The lack of sleep and the nausea combined would have been enough kill her, and she always struggled to keep her eyes open, and eventually her days began to dwindle in and out, like fading radio signals. She fought these urges to lie down and give up by clawing at her dried splashes of blood that covered her legs and torn arms, and on occasion she had to tear at her face with her breaking and dirty nails in order to keep awake, if not alive all together. Sometimes her world would even fade into as solemn gray, like a black and white photograph. She wished she had a camera when this happened, if she could she would put the picture on a postcard and tell her parents of her travels of distant lands with dragons and castles, and how she was doing fine, the usual lie that promoted her life of pain, suffering and constant running from the people who wanted so desperately to hurt her. Thoughts of going back home never lasted anyways, a few quick trips down memory lane usually cured the nostalgic slip ups.

When I was chopping wood, something stumbled into the clearing. For a minute, I thought It had been a wounded deer, just looking for a peaceful place to die. I looked at the creature, not knowing what to expect, and with a moments pass I realized it was a rather dirt smothered, beaten up, raving mad girl. I had been to the city many times before, and I’ve been in the country for some time, but nothing quite prepared me for this. At first she appeared to be a wood nymph, or some other mythic logical being-only her body was disease ridden and her skin glimmering with a fresh layer of sweat. I watched as she gazed in wonder at the rather large encampment, and as sudden as she had come she whipped her head to the left, cocking her head like a dog listening for a signal or command. Her sickness temporarily forgotten, she could’ve been mistaken for beautiful, her eyes large like a kid absorbing in all the sights of theme park.

The clearing was magnificent: the fort’s wall was a glimmering clean pearl white, reflecting the sun’s warm rays. There were four huts on each side, each little house about ten feet tall and eight feet wide on each side. The doors were rather odd, and seemed out of place for the buildings that looked so new. They were made of a layer of thick old oak, all had with brass handles that seemed older than the wood, maybe even centuries older. She staggered through the small fort, afraid of getting to close to the walls, afraid of her hand slipping through the walls and proving her eyesight to be wrong. If she started hallucinating, then all would be lost. To be in the woods with out a clue as to where you were was bad, but to be lost in the woods without a clue as to where you were and sick enough to be whisked away to the hospital while hallucinating and ranting insane gibberish was just all the worst. She bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood with closed eyes and counted to ten. By the time she had counted the last of the ten sugar plum fairies, the camp was still there. She sat down and began to cry. She had lost it, she was sure of it. She heard something. She snapped her head out of the fetal position, and wiped away the tears that blurred her sight. It was her father now, screaming that she had ruined his fort and how he was gonna be sure to make her go hungry tonight for making him look bad because crying in front of his friends just because he had yelled at her and slapped her once hard enough to make her head fly back was not a good enough excuse to cry. He came out of the far left tenet, already yelling his obscenities, throwing her mother aside when she tried to keep her only child safe. The girl began to sob, she had done it again, she had failed her father, now her mom and her were going to have to pay for all her wrong doings, she wasn’t going to be able to eat for a week with the bruise that her father was going to plant in her stomach with his fist, it would spread and every time she would breath she would feel his shame spread and be sore for about a month. She rolled back and forth, sobbing on the layer of pine needles waiting for her father’s foot to come in contact with her head. Her breath was thin and hitched, and a sudden coughing fit came over her. She hacked and felt her throat become a bloody tunnel, and when the coughing finally ceased, a small line of blood escaped from her lips. She remained sobbing on the forest floor, resting and gathering what was left of her tired body's strength. She at last pulled herself up to a sitting position, wiping away the mixture of salty tears and blood and a line of snot. She focused on getting herself up, but her consciousness fled her. She distinctly recalled someone calling out to her, and she knew she would be dead before she woke up again. Her dad’s voice was lost as she leapt over the last of the safe land into her unconsciousness, the bottomless abyss swallowing her frail body.

"who is she?" the harsh voice pounded in my head, cracking the fragile barrier of my existence and made my ears bleed. "I need an answer," the voice demanded. Pain pierced my ears, feeling as if someone was jamming my a knife through my thin skin that covered my ear drums. My throat itched, mouth was dry and my eyes felt sealed shut. That was just fine with me, I never wanted to see the light of day again. My thoughts rushed in my head, seeming to pass me by instead of letting me comprehend them. Every thing seemed blurry, memories coming in and out with static of the present, the people’s faces all fuzzy but somehow clear, I couldn’t tell. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to see where I was or talk to the person behind the bellowing voice who was currently telling other people to tie me up if I wasn’t gonna talk. Rough callused hands grabbed my small wrists and worked them into a tight loop and pulled out all the slack. They also tied my feet, connecting the to ropes together to form a longer piece of rope. Another loop was being fitted over my head when a friendly voice broke the silence. "what are you doing?". I listened carefully, judging the tones for kindness and authority, meaning that the deep voice was either a parent or the top dog of the group. I wondered how many people were here. The new piece of rope that rested on my head was lifted, and I was left where I lay as I listened to feet gathering to the left of my dying body. It was freezing cold outside, goose flesh broke out over my skin. A northern breeze caressed my face. I shivered. My shoulder twitched, and my right foot began to fall asleep. I was still lying on the woods floor, shaking uncontrollably. " we’ll set up a tent for the girl and give her food when she awakes, " my stomach twisted with nausea " but for now we’ll leave her alone. From the looks of her condition I doubt she’ll even wake up for a few a days." the voice was still that of the kinder leader, and I was glad when nobody questioned him. My head felt like bursting, or some little kid was let loose with a hammer. I tested my left hand, seeing if it would respond. One, two, three fingers, all of my left hand worked. It felt like decades since I had moved, the tendons creaking from lack of exercise. My wrist cracked. I licked my lips, wincing at the dry cracked skin….." it looks like she’s waking already- look…" I began to panic- what would they do to me now? Nervousness fluttered in my stomach. I stole a peek at the faces crowding around me. The colors where blinding- the shapes fuzzy and confusing. I rubbed my eyes, or tried to at least until I realized my hands were still bound together. One person who probably pitied a sick girl like me jerked the tight knots loose and the strings left my hands. Fresh air swirled around the covered skin where it had been confined to the rope’s walls. I rubbed my face and eyes, and my skin felt raw and abused. I would need more than lotion now. My skin felt ruff, my ears sore to a soft touch and my eyes watering. It took awhile for my sight to clear. My eyes now wide open, I stared at the faces who demanded my name to be known. I had never seen such a diverse crowd of men, and to my horror began thinking that this could be some manly boy outing where no girls were allowed. The outings where they belched around a bonfire and drank beer all day, staggering around and getting into arguments over stupid stuff. I sat up. My wrists creaked again. My sight fluttered with black dots and I stared at the ground to make sure I wasn’t going to black out. I couldn’t now that I had everything to risk. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Well, something did, but it wasn’t words. Blood spewed from my mouth and my stomach convulsed up into a ball, forcing more blood out my throat. My muscles tensed into knots, and I was barely aware of all the men backing up, disgusted of my sickness. I brought myself knees, bending over and trying to keep that stance. It seemed impossible. My sight was useless, everything was blotted out with small black smudges. Nothing seemed to penetrate my sight. I was about to shove my fingers in my eyes to make sure they were at least open when my stomach crunched together again and clear fluid came rushing out of my mouth. My jeans were splattered with warm digesting fluid, and tears ran down my cheeks in streams as my nerves screamed in frustration at kneeling over the ground. The warm tears were refreshing, my skin drank the salty tears as if it wear lotion from the gods. My mouth hung open, and more tears spilled from my watering eyes. Strings of spit trailed from my mouth to the ground. Slowly I brought my hand to my mouth, wiping the spit from the corners of my mouth. The taste that rebounded in my mouth was disgusting, and I spit out the remains of my last meal. I slowly closed my mouth and opened my eyes. The faces still peered at me, but now from a distance. I began to laugh at the irony- to think, I opened my mouth to talk and even though I felt fine I had barfed out whatever I had left in me. My stomach gurgled, my muscles shivering and glimmering in a fresh layer of sweat. It felt burning hot out now, and the setting sun’s shadows felt wonderful dancing on my twitching skin. My eye sight however was still blurred by tears, but I could most definitely live with the embarrassment of crying in front people I didn’t know. Coming to think of it, I glanced once more at the unfamiliar strangers with wide eyes of a lost child. I studied each face- there were eight men in total, all having a built physic of fighters. O this is just great, I thought. I stumble into a clearing looking for help, and it has to be a fighting ring who will crush me to a pulp. Like that would be hard, considering the circumstances. My bones would probably snap if someone were to kick me. But the men didn’t even make a move towards me. They just stared. I cleared my throat, wincing at the grinding feeling deep in my throat. I brought my hands to my throat, massaging the dry papery skin. "where… *ahem* erm… where am I?"
My voice merely a whisper, I belted out the question without fear of the answer. My stomach gurgled, and I focused my eyes on the ground for a moment. After the wave of nausea past, I looked back up to see surprising acidic green eyes. A young girl looked down at me with a look of pure disgust written all over her face, and looked embarrassed to find that she had been under my intense steady.

Anyways please try and post comments on either one of the stories. Well i'm gonna go now so i'll post later...buh bye!!!!!!



Comments (0)