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Darrin Drader's Post Apocalyptic Story Hour - Updated 09/10/2005
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<blockquote data-quote="Darrin Drader" data-source="post: 1919117" data-attributes="member: 7394"><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Prelude</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">There is No Hope</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">***</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Five Years Ago</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The instructor droned away at the head of the class, but Alex paid no attention to him. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the girl sitting next the next row over. Mali was her name, with sun-bleached brown hair, naturally tan skin, a charming smile, and alluring eyes. Alex quickly diverted his gaze when she turned and caught him staring, but in a rare display of courage, he shifted his eyes back to hers and held her gaze for a few seconds. Mali smiled, then redirected her attention back to the front of the class.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“As we have been talking about this week,” said the teacher, “the Lord Mayor provides for the township by separating those who are inclined to fight from those who are more useful in other areas. Alex, since you seem so preoccupied, what are the other areas that you should strive to excel in, in order to keep you from the manning the outpost?”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been paying attention in class the previous couple of days. He glanced at Mali again, who was eyeing him along with the rest of the class. “Agriculture and manufacturing?” he sheepishly replied.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And?” inquired the teacher.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And…” Alex paused. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t remember.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The teacher was a harsh but lithe man in his early forties. His black hair was shot with gray, and a patch of scales that ran from his forehead and down the right side of his face betrayed his mutant heritage. “You don’t remember? This is may be the only thing that may keep you from the fight, and you place so little importance on it? Young man, you should know well that the third item is reading.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I’m sorry sir,” Alex said, his face flushed red with embarrassment.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And well you should be,” lectured the teacher. “Reading! It’s the one thing that everyone in my class needs to learn. There are ancient text sitting in the library that are of absolutely no use to anybody because so few people are able to go through them and separate the useful from the useless. It is the one thing that everyone here should be able to learn from my class. You must focus your efforts.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I’m sorry,” said Alex awkwardly. He noticed that Mali turned away then, apparently less interested than before.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">***</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Alex” said Scoth, as he came running up from behind as he walked away from the schoolhouse.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex turned to face his best friend. Scoth had fair skin, freckles, and black hair. Like Alex, he was also one of the few people free of mutations. “Yeah, what is it?”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The athletic boy caught up with him quickly. “You know you’re wasting the only chance you have at a peaceful life, don’t you?”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex shrugged.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I know how you feel about her, and if she’s half that much of a looker in two years, she’ll surely go with the Lord Mayor, just like the others,” said Scoth.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Yeah, I know,” Alex replied. He looked up the hill to the brilliant white house which stood majestically above the rest of the city. “The Lord Mayor,” Alex muttered as he hocked up a piece of phlegm from his throat and spat it into the dirt. “What a bastard.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“It could be worse,” said Scoth. “He could have conscripted everyone young enough to fight and sent us all off.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Yeah, but then who would work the fields, make the guns, and read the texts?” Alex asked. “The Lord Mayor is in his position only because he realized that our crops aren’t tainted anymore and that he can get wealthy by selling them throughout the wastelands.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Scoth shrugged. “It still beats the guarantee of a quick death at the outpost.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">As they rounded a corner, they noticed Maggie working in her yard. She was a woman twice their ago, who kept her face concealed with a scarf. Rumor was that she had been attractive once, and sought after by the menfolk in town. Her face now bore deep scars, which were said to have been self inflicted, the price of saving herself from the Lord Mayor’s favor.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Scoth leaned towards Alex and whispered, “See what I mean? You’d best forget about her, before she decides to do something like that for you.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">***</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex arrived home, slamming the door shut behind him. The house rattled as he ran into the living room and plopped down on the threadbare couch. His mind raced. There had to be a way to save Mali from the fate that was in store for her. There had to be a way that he could show her how much he loved her and take her away from all of this. Several scenarios played through his mind. He could kill the Lord Mayor, which would likely only see him killed and the Lord Mayor replaced by one of his lieutenants. He could take Mali and run away, but where would they flee to? There was nowhere to go that wasn’t hostile or under the control of the Lord Mayor. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">There was his grandfather’s journal. He hadn’t looked at it in years. In fact, his father had specifically instructed not to touch it. Maybe there were secrets there that could help his plight.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex climbed to his feet, pulled a wooden chair that had been repaired several times in his fifteen years of life, and lifted it up. He walked to the closet door, which opened with a creak, then he set it down and climbed atop it.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Alex, what are you doing in there?” his father called from the other side of the house.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Nothin’, Pa.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“It don’t sound like nothing.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">His father was unlikely to get out of bed to check on him. Alex reached up to the shelf above and grasped the dog-eared journal. It was a thick book, probably three hundred pages. Within, all but the last few pages had been filled with words, each letter flawlessly written. Alex looked at the front page and had no problems reading the words “Normand Brousard.” Beneath that were the following words, “My obser…” Alex was having a hard time sounding out the next word. “Obser..va…shion” he mouthed.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“What do you think you’re doing?” His father said from across the room.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I… I thought…” Alex stammered.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex could see the vein pulsing on the side of his father’s face. He could tell that he was angry. “I told you never to touch that book.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“But Pa, I can read some words now. I can try to make some sense out of it.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“What do you hope to find?” his father yelled. “You think that you can take one look at it and figure out what your mother could not?”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">He had invoked his mother. Alex could tell that this would be a painful lesson. “I was just hoping…”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“And that’s your problem. You allow yourself to hope. You’re just damn lucky that you came out normal.” His father pulled his shirt off, revealing the chunk missing from his shoulder from the wound he had suffered from mortar fragments at the outpost so many years ago. He twisted around, with his left arm, pulled at the wrappings, and revealed his hideous third arm he kept hidden behind his back. Alex also noticed a new rosy patch of lumps that had appeared on his father’s stomach. Once freed, he could see the disproportionately long arm that ended in a clawed hand. “You’re lucky that your mother gave me the time of day after she found out what I was, and you’re lucky that you took after her.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Alex swallowed. He remembered his sister, who had been born when he was five. She hadn’t lived long. Born with nothing more than a smooth surface where her face should have been, she died of starvation within days. “I’m sorry. I was just hoping that we could learn grandpa’s secrets.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“There are no secrets,” said his father, yelling now. “You think there is something to hope for in there? You’re a fool. A damn fool who just needs to learn how to shoot a rifle and get out there and fight. There is no hope. Not for you, and not for this cinder of a world”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I wanted to find a way to save Mali from the Lord Mayor,” Alex blurted.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“You’re an even bigger fool than I thought,” his father bellowed. “The Lord Mayor is the only thing saving us from those barbarians.”</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">His father approached menacingly as Alex realized that he was still standing on the chair. With one hand, his father ripped the journal from his hand and threw it across the room. With the other two hands, his father pushed him onto the floor. “When will you learn your place?” his father cried as he beat Alex savagely with his three fists.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I’m sorry,” Alex cried. He was fifteen years old, but he still felt as though he was a disobedient child in his father’s presence.</span></span></p><p> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry this time,” said his father as he stood up, looming above his cowering son. His foot came swiftly forward and connected with Alex’s skull. There was a brief moment of pain, and he thought he could hear his mother sobbing. “Impossible,” was the last thought that ran through his mind before darkness enveloped him.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Darrin Drader, post: 1919117, member: 7394"] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Prelude[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3] There is No Hope ***[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Five Years Ago[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The instructor droned away at the head of the class, but Alex paid no attention to him. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon the girl sitting next the next row over. Mali was her name, with sun-bleached brown hair, naturally tan skin, a charming smile, and alluring eyes. Alex quickly diverted his gaze when she turned and caught him staring, but in a rare display of courage, he shifted his eyes back to hers and held her gaze for a few seconds. Mali smiled, then redirected her attention back to the front of the class.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3] “As we have been talking about this week,” said the teacher, “the Lord Mayor provides for the township by separating those who are inclined to fight from those who are more useful in other areas. Alex, since you seem so preoccupied, what are the other areas that you should strive to excel in, in order to keep you from the manning the outpost?” Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been paying attention in class the previous couple of days. He glanced at Mali again, who was eyeing him along with the rest of the class. “Agriculture and manufacturing?” he sheepishly replied. “And?” inquired the teacher. “And…” Alex paused. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t remember.” The teacher was a harsh but lithe man in his early forties. His black hair was shot with gray, and a patch of scales that ran from his forehead and down the right side of his face betrayed his mutant heritage. “You don’t remember? This is may be the only thing that may keep you from the fight, and you place so little importance on it? Young man, you should know well that the third item is reading.” “I’m sorry sir,” Alex said, his face flushed red with embarrassment. “And well you should be,” lectured the teacher. “Reading! It’s the one thing that everyone in my class needs to learn. There are ancient text sitting in the library that are of absolutely no use to anybody because so few people are able to go through them and separate the useful from the useless. It is the one thing that everyone here should be able to learn from my class. You must focus your efforts.” “I’m sorry,” said Alex awkwardly. He noticed that Mali turned away then, apparently less interested than before. *** [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“Alex” said Scoth, as he came running up from behind as he walked away from the schoolhouse.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3] Alex turned to face his best friend. Scoth had fair skin, freckles, and black hair. Like Alex, he was also one of the few people free of mutations. “Yeah, what is it?” The athletic boy caught up with him quickly. “You know you’re wasting the only chance you have at a peaceful life, don’t you?” Alex shrugged. “I know how you feel about her, and if she’s half that much of a looker in two years, she’ll surely go with the Lord Mayor, just like the others,” said Scoth. “Yeah, I know,” Alex replied. He looked up the hill to the brilliant white house which stood majestically above the rest of the city. “The Lord Mayor,” Alex muttered as he hocked up a piece of phlegm from his throat and spat it into the dirt. “What a bastard.” “It could be worse,” said Scoth. “He could have conscripted everyone young enough to fight and sent us all off.” “Yeah, but then who would work the fields, make the guns, and read the texts?” Alex asked. “The Lord Mayor is in his position only because he realized that our crops aren’t tainted anymore and that he can get wealthy by selling them throughout the wastelands.” Scoth shrugged. “It still beats the guarantee of a quick death at the outpost.” As they rounded a corner, they noticed Maggie working in her yard. She was a woman twice their ago, who kept her face concealed with a scarf. Rumor was that she had been attractive once, and sought after by the menfolk in town. Her face now bore deep scars, which were said to have been self inflicted, the price of saving herself from the Lord Mayor’s favor. Scoth leaned towards Alex and whispered, “See what I mean? You’d best forget about her, before she decides to do something like that for you.” *** [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Alex arrived home, slamming the door shut behind him. The house rattled as he ran into the living room and plopped down on the threadbare couch. His mind raced. There had to be a way to save Mali from the fate that was in store for her. There had to be a way that he could show her how much he loved her and take her away from all of this. Several scenarios played through his mind. He could kill the Lord Mayor, which would likely only see him killed and the Lord Mayor replaced by one of his lieutenants. He could take Mali and run away, but where would they flee to? There was nowhere to go that wasn’t hostile or under the control of the Lord Mayor. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3] There was his grandfather’s journal. He hadn’t looked at it in years. In fact, his father had specifically instructed not to touch it. Maybe there were secrets there that could help his plight. Alex climbed to his feet, pulled a wooden chair that had been repaired several times in his fifteen years of life, and lifted it up. He walked to the closet door, which opened with a creak, then he set it down and climbed atop it. “Alex, what are you doing in there?” his father called from the other side of the house. “Nothin’, Pa.” “It don’t sound like nothing.” His father was unlikely to get out of bed to check on him. Alex reached up to the shelf above and grasped the dog-eared journal. It was a thick book, probably three hundred pages. Within, all but the last few pages had been filled with words, each letter flawlessly written. Alex looked at the front page and had no problems reading the words “Normand Brousard.” Beneath that were the following words, “My obser…” Alex was having a hard time sounding out the next word. “Obser..va…shion” he mouthed. “What do you think you’re doing?” His father said from across the room. “I… I thought…” Alex stammered. Alex could see the vein pulsing on the side of his father’s face. He could tell that he was angry. “I told you never to touch that book.” “But Pa, I can read some words now. I can try to make some sense out of it.” “What do you hope to find?” his father yelled. “You think that you can take one look at it and figure out what your mother could not?” He had invoked his mother. Alex could tell that this would be a painful lesson. “I was just hoping…” “And that’s your problem. You allow yourself to hope. You’re just damn lucky that you came out normal.” His father pulled his shirt off, revealing the chunk missing from his shoulder from the wound he had suffered from mortar fragments at the outpost so many years ago. He twisted around, with his left arm, pulled at the wrappings, and revealed his hideous third arm he kept hidden behind his back. Alex also noticed a new rosy patch of lumps that had appeared on his father’s stomach. Once freed, he could see the disproportionately long arm that ended in a clawed hand. “You’re lucky that your mother gave me the time of day after she found out what I was, and you’re lucky that you took after her.” Alex swallowed. He remembered his sister, who had been born when he was five. She hadn’t lived long. Born with nothing more than a smooth surface where her face should have been, she died of starvation within days. “I’m sorry. I was just hoping that we could learn grandpa’s secrets.” “There are no secrets,” said his father, yelling now. “You think there is something to hope for in there? You’re a fool. A damn fool who just needs to learn how to shoot a rifle and get out there and fight. There is no hope. Not for you, and not for this cinder of a world” “I wanted to find a way to save Mali from the Lord Mayor,” Alex blurted. “You’re an even bigger fool than I thought,” his father bellowed. “The Lord Mayor is the only thing saving us from those barbarians.” His father approached menacingly as Alex realized that he was still standing on the chair. With one hand, his father ripped the journal from his hand and threw it across the room. With the other two hands, his father pushed him onto the floor. “When will you learn your place?” his father cried as he beat Alex savagely with his three fists. “I’m sorry,” Alex cried. He was fifteen years old, but he still felt as though he was a disobedient child in his father’s presence. “Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry this time,” said his father as he stood up, looming above his cowering son. His foot came swiftly forward and connected with Alex’s skull. There was a brief moment of pain, and he thought he could hear his mother sobbing. “Impossible,” was the last thought that ran through his mind before darkness enveloped him.[/size][/font] [/QUOTE]
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Story Hour
Darrin Drader's Post Apocalyptic Story Hour - Updated 09/10/2005
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