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In a place known to those who live there as Threchan: three societies reside. These societies are permanent, once born into one; there is no escaping its deadly claws. You must abide by the rules or be executed. There is no sympathy for those who disobey the law. Any breach of the law is considered heinous and will not be taken lightly. Those who obey will be reworded at the age of 82.
You are expected to obey.
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Hey everyone! I've gone through a plot change, but the preface still remains the same. This is the reason for my taking so long to post the first part of chapter one! I should have it done soon! Thanks for bearing with me!
*Pronunciation guide at the bottom of the reply*
Chapter One; Bonitans.
Water leaked between my toes as I stared at the tree. The ocean was cool and calming against my skin as the ominous bark of a dog sounded somewhere in the city. The sky was a dark rose as the sun took its leave. The tree in front of me was bare and out of place; one, single oak tree in the middle of the beach. It shouldn’t have grown there; it shouldn’t be living near salt water. But it did. It resided here on the far side of the beach. No one bothered it, it often offered shade for those of us who were not permitted to be near the rich, popular crowd of the Bonitans.
Most didn’t care that the Bonitans acted as if they ran the world, because in fact they did, but only cared about was how they knew they ran the world. In our simple little civilization on the coast of what used to a place called Florida. Now it was known as Threchan. Threchan is small community. None of us dare leave it though. The only thing that awaits us is thick tall trees and the army of the only other living civilization.
And besides, if we were caught trying to leave Threchan, it would result in our immediate arrest. I guess this is because they are afraid that we will get ourselves killed by the army of the only other living city, Muerten. But if someone wants to escape Threchan, arresting them is only going to make their longing to leave burn stronger.
Bonitans didn’t seem to understand this. With their large houses, lush houses, dangerously good looks, and magnificent talents; they don’t seem to have an understanding of the other classes. They can’t comprehend the pain of having to hide in the confinements of your own home simply because you’re too beautiful to be a Lavoraten.
Lavoratens. I always feel a pang of guilt when I think about them. This is simply because no one ever thinks about them. They are average. Not because they were born that way, but because they are forced to be. The middle class is known for their averageness; but also known for its rebellion, for its trouble-making nature, for its willingness to disobey the law.
Us Faiens, we don’t rebel. We don’t have the time to rebel, or the energy. The Bonitans work us to the bone.
“I really wish that you wouldn’t fidget so much dear,” My sister Anabel said, immediately reminding me of my grandmother. “Dear” was her nickname for everyone she came into contact with. “And stop biting your nails Joe,” Her hand came towards me and swatted me thumb away from my lips.
“I’m sorry, I do it when I’m nervous.” I answered her quickly.
“There’s nothing to be worried about.” She said, her knee bouncing up and down like a bobber in the middle of water. She was obviously worried too, but I didn’t know whether it was because of the bill she had to pay after, or if it was the fact that we were at the doctors’ for the second time this month.
“We could leave, reschedule.” I offered, knowing that she would immediately turn me down.
“Of course we can’t, Joe, we’d just have to come back in a week or so, rescheduling is just putting it off. And besides we’re already here.” She wouldn’t look at me.
I knew what she was thinking. How come you weren’t careful! Why did you go and have to re-break your wrist, now I have a second bill to pay for and can’t afford it! I wished I could have told her that it wasn’t my fault, that the tutor did it to me on accident. But I couldn’t, I would only become a tattle tale, which would make her even more upset with me.
“Jolene Andrews?” Came the thick accent of a Bonitan nurse.
I stood up, feeling my heart speed up when the nurse looked at me with those sharp eyes that every single Bonitan seemed to have. “Right this way.” She said, almost letting the door slam in my face. She was making it perfectly clear that Faiens were not welcome. But she couldn’t say it allowed. Saying it allowed would break the law.
She led me to small room that smelled of medicine and bleach. “Let me have a look at your arm.” Her voice was deadpan. She had no compassion for me at all. She nearly yanked it when I held it out for her. “Re-breaking your wrist was not a smart thing to do girl, we do not appreciate attention seekers.” She said harshly.
I kept my mouth closed. Mouthing off to her would only get me thrown out while Anabel still had to pay the bill.
The nurse eventually just took an ex-ray with their fancy machine and gave me a sort of removable cast. It was the only thing we could afford. One of the nice ones that looks like your skin and allows you to move while broken were for the rich only. So I had a heavy, black, stiff glove that closed around my hand uncomfortably.
Anabel was waiting impatiently by the time I came out. She looked up anxiously as I walked out of the door that I went in through.
I thought I heard her mutter a “finally” under her breath.
She gave me a small but genuine smile as we left. She must have paid while I was inside.
“Do you want to stop and get something to eat?” She asked as we walked out of the office.
“No.” I said quietly, trying to make the throbbing go away in my wrist. We couldn’t afford to eat anywhere but home.
“Are you sure?” She asked gently.
I looked up at her and smiled. “Yep,” I said lightly.
She nodded her head as we began to walk home. Bonitan cars buzzed by us furiously. There was no way that they were following the speed limits. There weren’t any officers around to stop them, but it’s not like an officer would dare pull over a Bonitan. Only Lavoratens got pulled over. Faiens didn’t even have cars.
The walk wasn’t long, but the heat barreled down on us, making it seem more miserable than it actually was.
We were both panting for water by the time we got back home. Anabel’s fiancé was waiting for us at the door.
“Henry,” Anabel said with a smile, walking up to him and kissing him on the cheek. He grinned and said something in her hear that made blood flow into her cheeks.
“Hello Henry,” I said lightly and walked inside the steam box of our house.
James was sitting on the couch. He waved an absent minded hello at us as we walked in. He was drawing something on a scrap paper.
James was eighteen and the most loyal brother a girl could ever ask for. He was only two years older than me, so we were usually interested in the same things. We always had the same view on things, the same perceptions of the world. He was the only one I felt I could trust completely.
Not like Anabel. Anabel worshiped the Bonitans. She had a complete opposite view of the world from James and me. She loved how to Bonitans lived while James and I simply despised it. We found it frivolous and sickening while she found fabulous and saucy. The way they dressed, the way they talk with their thick accents, the way they did their hair, all of it was admired by Anabel.
But we never said anything to her about it. We let her have her own opinions. Besides, she was the eldest, she made up the rules.
James was eighteen now though, he could make his own decisions. But being eighteen also meant that you were now subjected to the government’s every will. If they called you into do something, or to work somewhere, you had no choice. You had to go.
“I’m going to get started on dinner!” I called out from the kitchen. No one replied, but I knew that they had heard me. There were only a few rooms in the house.
Dinner wasn’t much these days. We could hardly afford bread. I sliced some up and then went to the garden in the back yard. I pulled a few potatoes from their resting spot and went inside to cut them up. I would have to put the rest of them later.
I eventually ended up with a potato soup for everyone. I wasn’t hungry though. All day a nagging feeling had been itching in her stomach. Something was wrong. At first I had thought that it was just going to the doctor’s office, but now that they were done with that, I couldn’t lay her finger on what was going on.
I walked into my room and lay down on my bed, the coils putting pain in my back. The ceiling was an off white color with that sharp popcorn stuff sticking out of it. I sighed and sat up, feeling my wrist moan in protest against my weight.
I looked down at the quilt on my bed. My grandmother had made all three of us a quilt before she passed away. Mine was the newest being that I was the youngest. Anabel didn’t use hers anymore, afraid of damaging it.
I traced the intricate designs of the quilt squares with my fingers. There was something about this that calmed me. I smiled faintly, thinking of my grandmother and her endless plate of cookies.
“Aren’t you coming to eat, Joe?” James asked me from the doorway, ripping me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I said, looking up at him, even though I didn’t want to eat at the moment.
Anabel and Henry were already eating and it looked as if James had already made himself a bowl. I turned to the pot to ladle myself some out when a hard, sharp, knock of a fist at the front door boomed through the house.
I dropped the ladle on accident, sending soup splashing over the side, burning my hands. I gasped and wiped them off on my paints.
“I’ll get it,” I offered when no one else did. A person knocking on the door was extremely rare, and when they did, it was most likely because they were bearing bad news.
I walked into the living room and to the door, after wiping my suddenly sweaty palm on my jeans, I opened the door.
“Is this the Andrew’s residence?” Asked a tall, broad shouldered Bonitan man with is eccentric accent.
“Yes sir, it is.” I said, forcing myself to make eye contact with him.
“I have a letter to James Andrews from the High Office.” He said, holding out a thick envelope to me.
I took the envelope cautiously and said a clipped thank you.
He turned around and marched off of the porch and into his car. I watched him drive down the road, disappearing into a cloud of dust from the dirt roads.
“Who was it Joe?” James asked, walking up behind me.
“An officer from the High Office, he- he gave this to me. It’s for you.” I said, already dreading the envelope. This was it. The feeling in the pit of my stomach; it was all about this little envelope.
“Well, then I guess I should open it then, huh?” He said with a ghost of a smile.
He carefully tore it open and read the contents allowed.
After the first sentence, I felt my world begin to spin.
“Dear Mr. James Andrews, you are being drafted into the Army of Threchan. You are to fight amongst the rest of the Army against the suppressors of Muerten.”
Hey everyone! So I'm SO sorry it took so long to get this up. I went through a plot change. xD I hope I was able to explain everything nicely. If you have anyquestions, please don't be afraid to ask!
Please leave your opinions and predictions! =D
-Claire J. Darling.
Claire! I loved this sooo much! Update soon missy!
I'll update this weekend Jasey! I promise! =D I'm glad you enjoyed it!
xD Yes I had meant to, it's more of a dialect thing. =) But thanks for pointing out what you thought may had been an error. =)
Thank Nikki! I'm glad you liked it! =D
Haha, I got that. I figured since you wrote that repeatedly that it was something like that.
This sounds soo intresting! OMG! Wow. I really like it. Your stories are always soo intresting!
Wow! That sucks that she had her wrist brokent! What James was drafted for the Army? That sucks!
Over all this was really good!
Certainly Tikki! =D
I'm glad you liked it!