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Thread: Traitor

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    Newbie Shinigami Kira is off to a good start Shinigami Kira's Avatar
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    Traitor

    Ok, so despite the fact that fantasy manga is my favorite, if I were to create one it would be a realistic story. So I figured this would be a good place to see what kind of reception the story would get, since this is actually from a book I've written, and I'd like to judge reactions before I have it published. (And that means this is all copyrighted, so no stealing! haha)

    (Oh ya, a quick note to my readers: because of the anger in this book, sentences are short and choppy but connected and flowing. Paragraphs can range from one sentence to ten lines of rants. Please bear with it, and remember that it is not lack of talent, but a try to portray the truth. If you have to think about it, a person who doesn’t care about anything that she does is not going to write down very much.)

    Prologue

    He was dead. He could never return. He would always be gone. There was no turning back . . .

    I’m fourteen. My name is Cassie. Cassie Maiek. Daughter of a traitor. A traitor dealt with the punishment given to all traitors. Death.

    Death. A dark, unforgiving, disturbing, and emotional thing. I stared it right in the face. And I survived. Shaken, broken, shattered emotionally to the core, yet still here.

    No one knows, but everyone knows. Everyone knows my father is a traitor of our country, America. Everyone knows he was dealt with. Everyone knows I am his daughter. And nobody gives a damn.

    Nobody cares that he was brutally killed. Nobody cares that I loved him, and he was stolen from me. And nobody cares about me.

    And no one knows the dark things I have seen. No one knows the things I deal with. Because no one wants to listen.

    My mother is broken, shattered; a drunk. I fend for myself. I trust no one.

    This is my story.


    1

    School. Everyone knows it. Nobody likes it. But no one hates it more than me. At school, I get pushed around, ignored, picked on, and hated. And here I was, the first day of school, unprepared and uncaring.


    I was walking down the hall to my new locker, when somebody brushed by me, knocking my books to the floor. He didn’t even stop to say sorry, just kept walking. But I was used to this. In my book, what the stupid boy did was like a dust speck in a blizzard.

    I was used to it. And I was past caring. Or, so I told myself.

    I found my locker and put my backpack inside. I didn’t bring a lunch.

    You never bring a lunch on the first day of school. Everyone knows that. I shut my locker and glanced at my schedule. I sighed. English first period. This is not the way I wanted to start the year.

    Walking slowly, I made my way around the halls. By the time I made it to English, it was almost time for the late bell. Reaching for the doorknob, I heard it click.

    Locked.

    Like that mattered. I took my shoe off and punched it through the glass above the lock. I reached my hand through and cut myself. Whatever. I flipped the lock and walked inside. I took my seat at the back of the class, away from the hateful stares. It had been three years. You’d think these people would be over it.

    People are stupid.

    The teacher walked into the class then, without a second glance at the shattered glass. He had already heard enough from his colleagues to know who was responsible. The teacher proceeded to his desk and took out a slip of paper and scribbled something on it. I was then summoned to the front where he gave me the slip; a two week detention starting after the first month of school.

    I took the note and went back to my desk. The students snickered around me. The teacher didn’t even care that someone had locked me out. No one ever does.

    “Hey freak,” somebody whispered. I didn’t bother acknowledging the stupid creep.

    “Can you tell us, freak, what’s it like to know everyone hates you?” the little creep pestered jeeringly. The teacher was at the chalkboard, writing his name.

    Mr. Sakett.

    What a stupid name.

    “Guess what freak, I heard your father was a drunk,” Stupid Creep continued. “I bet he was ugly and stupid, too. He probably thought having you was the biggest mistake he ever made. Your dad shouldn’t have even been allowed to be an American citizen.” Stupid Creep kept at it for a while, insulting me, insulting my father, calling my mother a bitch. Of course, I didn’t really care about the last one.

    Finally I couldn’t take it.

    I stood up from my desk.

    “Miss Maiek, sit down this instant,” Mr. Sakett demanded sternly.

    I stood quiet. Stepping away from my desk, I walked over to Stupid Creep. I stood over him. He sat there in his desk, scooting away, as if my presence offended him.

    “You’re breathing my air, freak,” he whispered, but his voice had lost confidence.

    I kicked him. It felt good. Really good. All the pain I hid, bottled up, let loose. But I restrained myself. One kick, that was it. Then I left. I simply opened the door and walked out, with my teacher yelling useless threats behind me.

    Once outside, I went to the girls’ bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself. My hair was straight, because I never cared about it, and make-up was just a bother. I stared, and willed myself to cry, to see tears flow down my cheeks. Nothing came. My eyes stayed dry, and they have been for three long years. Through the stretch of time, I have never cried since my father was executed. Not one drop.

    Never has been, never will be, no matter how much I will it.

    The closest thing I got to feeling nowadays was listening to music. Each day I would listen to a whole album in my room. Most of the time it was a band that I just liked, and sometimes it was a band that I had just found recently. I actually have a chart where I keep track of what album and its artist I listened to that day.

    So that was how my first day of school went. Everyone tormented me. I ignored them. I always have. And I always will. That’s what I told my self, at least. The stupid f*ckers thought they could bother me, hurt me, make me cry. That’s what they yelled at me, walking down the hall.

    “Hey traitor, cry for us. Cry like that stupid little baby you are,” the jerks called.

    And I used to. Cry that is. I would cry all the time. Before my dad died. I was too emotional. Little things would upset me. Especially after The Suffering. But no more.

    The Suffering is what I called the period of time that my dad was on trial. All the way through the weeks after the Killing. It was hell. It was a living, breathing hell. And my overly emotional sensitivity didn’t help at all.

    After The Suffering, things were worse than bad. They were the nightmarish manifest of a young child. My friends deserted me. Even people I barely knew avoided my gaze. After a few days, that was when the Non-Suffered— everyone else in the world— began their pathetically pathetic attempt to break me, as my mother is broken.

    And my teachers? My stupid, freaking teachers? Oh, we’re here to help you, they said. Oh, don’t worry, we want to be your friends, we want to make your life here easier. F*ck `em all and their stupid lying mouths. They were some of the first to turn. Number one losers in the group of the Non-Sufferers.

    They never wanted to help me. They were always my enemies, locking me in their jail for the conformists.

    But I refuse to cooperate.

    Album: Life On Life’s Terms
    Artist: BEDlight for blueEYES
    Favorite Song Today: Michael


    2

    “Don’t worry princess, daddy will only be gone for a little while. I’m only going to visit some friends. And I’ve never left you before. I never will,” my father reassured me. He knelt down and gave me a hug. He picked up his briefcase and put his hat and jacket on. Daddy walked to the door. He stopped and nodded at my mother. She turned her back. I bit my lip and worried. After he left, I went up to my room and began to pace around and worry.

    Ever since one of my aunts had gotten a divorce, I worried that the same might happen to my family. And my parents recent behavior towards each other did anything but help reassure me that our family was stable. My father had reassured me that my mother was just a little upset with him for spending more time with his new “friends”, than her. And when I asked Daddy if he thought he and Mother would get a divorce, he just laughed as he tucked me into bed one night.

    But everything did not seem alright. Tension within my family grew with each passing day and night. I would sit at the dinner table, amidst the awkward silence. I wanted to say something, anything to relieve the tension floating in the air. But I never could. I felt so helpless, so useless, at fault for everything that was happening, even though I was only seven at the time.

    I blame myself for all that happened.



    ---Ok, so obviously the first bits are slightly rough because it's an intro into the character, but it becomes much better after a bit of progression.---
    Last edited by Shinigami Kira; Nov 11, 2007 at 09:51 PM.

    In the future reflected in the fruit
    I change my dream into an ideal

  2. #2
    Otaku Adriana may be famous one day Adriana may be famous one day Adriana's Avatar
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    Re: Traitor

    nice i really like it!!!!it's soo well written!!!!Did you write this??

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    Otaku ice viper is off to a good start ice viper's Avatar
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    Re: Traitor

    I can't wait to read the rest of the story! I can feel her anger and pretend that I'm her with all of these emotions bottled inside me. Very well written. How did you come up with this story any ways?

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    Otaku Dune Bashing In Dubai Champion, Yetisports 10 - Icicle Climb Champion, Yeti Bubbles Champion overload is off to a good start overload's Avatar
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    Re: Traitor

    Brilliant, I enjoy reading books so I have no problem imagining that I am there,
    I really think that you should publish this for all to read, the character is
    a real person to whom people could relate to.
    again I say Brilliant

  5. #5
    Newbie Shinigami Kira is off to a good start Shinigami Kira's Avatar
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    Re: Traitor

    thanks, i haven't been on in so long i haven't done anything, but now that i know people actually like it, i'll put more posts up! and yes, i wrote this, and i'm sending it off for publishing, so hopefully it'll actually be on bookshelves one day

    In the future reflected in the fruit
    I change my dream into an ideal

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    Angelic Lasura may be famous one day Lasura's Avatar
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    Re: Traitor

    WoW! This is good... Hmm... something felt odd- oh the fact that the situation is so bad, but it's not explained that much of why- the reason seems a bit less important as the result... So maybe a bit of explanation would do.

    But I loved the way the lyrical "me" broke the glass to get in the room and how she kicked the evil guy... really nice... I loved that part

    I really, really like how you've written this introduction- it's great!!!! I've always wanted to put songs in my stories and here I see that you've found the best way for it... great!!!!

    I really want to see more!!!!!!!! ^^

    My recommended fanfic: "Dreamer" by Scourge

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