Crazy

Smile,
I will not be unmasked.
I will not be set free.

Telling that truth,
I am nothing.
Exposed.
Empty.
Naked.

Lies are not evil so much so as they are a protection for the person saying it and the person believing it.

Exposure is evil so much so that the person saying it has no protection and the person hearing it must bear the burden of keeping it.

G.R.A.Y. Part 4

I felt the need to put an introduction here because well, I didn't want to just  throw you back into the story, and I did give an introduction for the other three, so...

Here you go:

            “Do you hear that?” They travelled as a pact, sensing the movement together.

            “One of the ten are out?”        

            “That’s why they sent us up." 

            They communicated through facial expressions. They could not run the risk of the ten hearing more than needed. They had learned long ago that only one sound should be heard: their feet as they pounded the ground. They always started in a walk and kept pace with their prey's footsteps.

                                                             -        -        -       -

I made sure to convey nothing on my face. It was my first night serving with them, I would be feared as I always desired. I had trained for this, and I would continue to train to become as near as the elders as possible. The older ones in the pact always travelled near the front. I was in the back, no one really acknowledged our presence. We were there to observe. I had seen them act on the camera, but never in person before. I knew the others would be watching, envious of class 14’s presence among the rest of their footsteps.

I was proud. If we passed this week’s training, we could become official members, but only five would be chosen this year, less than the past. They are more efficient with less. If I did not join them, I would forever be only spare change, used only when they were in need of others to join. I proudly wore my gray coating over my skin and the black pieces of plastic I had placed into my eyes. I am one of them.

They had given us the coating and plastic to look like them. It was only temporary, but they, the true members, had the features installed into them. Their skin was naturally a much darker grey then the rest of us, and it was permanent. They would always be a Gray. Their eyes were almost complete black, piercing, awe-inspiring.

I had been trained to admire them, perhaps I was ignorant, but it didn’t matter because I was on the chase. I could be a hero.

G.R.A.Y Part 2

So, basically I'm just going to continue from where I left off. Thank you Carol Balawyder for taking the time to look at my blog!
Sidenote: I will try to stop where I originally put page breaks into the story.

G.R.A.Y Part 1

So, this summer, I worked on a new novel that is very unfinished, but something special happened with the characters that I wrote into this story: I fell in love with them. IT WAS (and still is) THE FIRST TIME THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME! While I was editing my first completed novel, I discovered my hidden truth: I loved the content of that book (and still do), but I could care less about the characters. That's what made this book so special for me. So, I really hope that you, random readers, enjoy this as much as I did!

                                                                      Prologue

What is love? In my world, it all started at birth. The earth was taken from the state with luxurious flashing screens in every household and schools for learning, welcoming to every age, to a place where everything was corrupt to bring us to where we are today. The ones I dwell with are manipulators of all that is just. Our world is grey, but this is not how it always was; it was once in beautiful color, but now, we live in broken cities of broken worlds.

 When I was born, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a man, he was strong, tall, lean, and brave with shoulder-length dark grey hair flapping in the breeze onto his olive skin; he was my father. He looked ragged. He had brown streaks across his face, and his hair had grown unruly as he had waited for me to emerge.

The first sound I heard as a minute-old infant was my mother’s scream behind us; my father winced, but he kept running. They had let him go free into the dirt stained world away from the cottage my parents had intended for me to call home.

I was supposed to be their beautiful baby girl, born into a carefree world. Nine months before that they had been living in a perfect little house with a white fence and a golden retriever named Earth in a city not far from where I had been born. But when news spread of what the world had become, they had put giant walls around their city, and all the pregnant women were forced to move to camps. My parents had wanted to care for me, but they had no choice, except to give me up.

 At dark fall, my father slowed at our city’s giant magnificent mahogany doors, and the doors opened for him, well aware of what they were letting in. Inside the gates, it was a brand new world, an almost medieval world, the people, they were selling their goods on the sides of the street, smiling, carefree. The path we walked was separated from the dirt that everything else resided on; it was a carved gravel path; it was in preparation for them to come, my father had known. The buildings beside us were magnificently made as our ancestors had left them.

 When my father walked in, every one of the street people turned, and they rang the streets with applause. He lifted me up for all to see before laying me on the gravel and turning back to the door. The men controlling the doors smiled with tears in their eyes. The doors remained open.

My father hadn’t even walked to the heart of the opening to the world of misery, before I heard those loud bangs, unforgettable, even as a babe. I could swear that my father was smiling when the crimson bolts spread out of him. He fell to the ground, his eyes staring blankly into the light blue sky.