Monday, August 29, 2011

A Cerulean tale...intro

Here is an excerpt from a piece I wrote for my class. Jenny from the Art Association said it was I'm hoping that will be a majority of the reaction. I have never written anything so completely in another world so it was kinda neat....Although difficult. (I have a document to keep all my new lingo straight:)

I was always inspired by 1984, Brave New World, and Anthem. Such beautiful tales that are true to our society at any time...and yet disguised in an intriguing story. Not even my intent when I started writing, I can see, and hopefully you will too, that this is really a comment to our society and its structure. Of course...this is only part one...:)

(Hi Jenny! Did you like how I threw your name up there? ^giggles^)

It was a Saturday when we crossed paths. I was walking East on the bike path-he west. We probably would have never given a second glace to each other-if it hadn’t been for the blue wristband he was wearing-the one I also wore. It was a loosely woven piece of dyed rope-extremely uncomfortable-knotted on his left wrist. Although we had never met before, our eyes caught each others with a flash of recognition and acceptance. You are my kind, I thought as he passed. Finally I had found someone like me. I had already been here for four months and I had never seen anyone else with a blue wristband. It’s a lonely life in Welchwood-but now I had a companion. My heart fluttered, my eyes turned towards the ground. What was I do? I knew I couldn’t acknowledge him-for it could mean death for both of us. I looked back up, just as he passed. His eyes were on the road ahead of him, but for one brief second he looked in my direction, and our eyes met again. And as quickly as I came across him, he passed me by. As hard as I wanted, I dared not look after him. My mind raced. Who was he? Where had he come from? I wanted to know everything. I kept on my way, adding a little more speed, making it home much earlier than expected. When I was safe inside my home, I was safe to sit and ponder this exceptional discovery of another of my kind here. I feel asleep happy, for the first time in a very, very long time.
It was two weeks until I saw him again. I was at the marketplace, shopping for some fruit, and I spotted him picking out potatoes a few stands away. I glanced around. There were only a few others in the marketplace, which was unusual for this time of day. I knew there wouldn’t be too many chances like this, so as casually as I could, I went from stand to stand, browsing the selection, trying to get close enough to him as possible. He was still picking out potatoes by the time I made it to the potato stand, so I started picking up potatoes, inspecting them as if I were trying to find just the perfect one. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him. It seemed like he still hadn’t noticed me, so I inched closer. I saw his head cock slightly in my direction, just enough to where I knew he saw me.

“You can’t do this, you know.” He whispered, only loud enough to where I was still struggling to hear. The sound of his voice echoed in my ears. Even thought it was only a whisper, it was the most beautiful sound I had heard in years. It was manly, rustic, with depth, showing this man had lived, that he was true, and pure. 

“I want to know who you are.” I replied, continuing to inspect potatoes at random.

“Is it worth death?” He asked, never even glancing in my direction.

I shrugged. “It’s death either way for us. Wouldn’t you rather not be alone?”
“I’m used to it.” He looked around, then turned back to the potatoes. The marketplace had more people in it, and surely there were more to come. “I have to go now.” He added, grabbing another potato and throwing it in his sack.
“Can I know your name?”
“Chales. I really have to go.” He turned, and I couldn’t help but call after him.

“I want to see you again. I’ll be in the book store next Thursday at 11pm, meet me in the alley behind it.”

He stopped for a moment, his head turned to the side. He didn’t acknowledge me, then continued walking away. I wasn’t sure if he had heard me at all, or if he had if he would meet me. I was filled with the excitement though, the hope that he would. My mind traveled to another plane as I shopped, where it would be possible for us to meet in the light of day, in the presence of others.  I was still careful, though, not to be in the way of any Indigo’s way, careful not to draw their attention.

I saw an Indigo and her two children as I grabbed a piece of bread. The children were young and were running around her, running their hands along the hemline of her skirt. The little girl, her hair in braids, ribbons streaming down past the ends was looking over her shoulder as he ran at the boy, who seemed to be a year or so younger than her. His cheeks were chubby, and he laughed as he ran, so happy in his own little world. I stopped to watch the children play, so happy, so unaware of the world they lived in, the hatred it was filled with. Of course, they weren’t on a bad side of it.

Just then the mother grabbed both childrens’ hands, saying, “Alright now, enough playing around. Let’s get dinner so we can cook before Daddy gets home.”

The children’s eyes lit up, smiles sweeped across their faces. “Yea! Daddy!” They cheered.

“Let’s get to it then.” The mother said, as she pulled on their hands slightly, urging them to walk forward. I held my breath, noticing they were coming my way. I turned to face the assortment of breads in front of me, hoping she would not notice. But I saw her head rise as I turned. Although it was only momentary, I saw the look of surprise register across her face, only lasting a moment before it was replaced with disgust.

I minded my business to the bread, as I should, but it was too late. I saw her scoop up the little boy, and pull the little girl in close. She was not to blame really-after all, this was her territory. It was ALL her territory. I lost my interest in the bread and turned away from the mother and her children. I decided I had all I needed. 

As I walked away, I could hear the mother, “You see that? That’s a Cerulean. You mustn’t ever speak to one. They are the worst breed imaginable. Of course, thanks to the Royals there aren’t too many left, and soon there won’t be any….” And then I could hear her no longer. I sighed. More impressionable youth taught to believe that we were the enemy. 

Of course, I took the mother’s words as no personal insult. Most of them were true. We were a dying breed, and that was largely in part to the Royals. And we do not mix with the Indigos, just as they were not favored to mix with the Royals.

Royals were largely different from Indigos. They were the supreme race, and they all acted like it. If they were to ever come across a Cerulean, they would simply act as if they hadn’t. If it came to life and death for a Cerulean, they would let one suffer out. No one would ever question it, as it was just the way it was.

It hadn’t always been like this. I can remember a time when it was different, when all races mixed together, played together, went to school together. I was 10 when it changed, when they passed the new laws. I had grown accustomed to them, knowing they would not change but hoping they would. In 15 years I had seen the world go from a peaceful civilization to a world where even the wrong turn of the eye could warrant one’s death. 

Let me know what you think...if you're eager for part two or if I should just move it along...

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