first 2 pages of fiction - not sure where it will go...

 

Everyone is Black

by Maggie Hess

Sci fi

main characters – Marmalade, Crow, September, Laughlin, King Belch, Charlie

The loneliest thing in the world is a school with a No Blacks sign at every turn, and you the only black person you know. At least no one seems to notice my skin color, which perplexes me every day, and scares the heebee geebees out of me. Going to this school is like being tortured, although I probably shouldn’t say that, since I could be tortured in reality if King Belch knew I was black. See my skin is the color of milk chocolate, everyone acts like it is the color of a pale peach, so I guess no one knows that I am black, and if they knew what would happen to me? I see in the news people getting thrown in jail and even killed for having dark skin. So I guess you might understand why I am feeling lonely because I am the one person I know who has dark skin, and no one talks to anyone in this world where I live. But it isn’t the fear that bothers me the most really, it is that I am alone and that I don’t know anyone like me.

The strange thing is everyone seems so nice, and it makes me want to really talk to someone, like to really share with them what is happening on my mind. I probably would kill for a friend, I mean I really don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have seen so many people like me slaughtered like poultry, that I guess I have been desensitized about killing I’d say. I guess my real point is I want a friend, and it seems I would do about anything to find one.

I was thinking about all of that, which is my status quo, when something really big happened right in front of me. There is this wall that I walk along on my way back home from school. It actually is the Separation Wall that King Belch had built between North and South. We are at the very tip top of the most Southern part, so we have this huge wall in parts of our district. I was walking towards where I saw a guard snoozing under a tree, but I had to squat behind a bush suddenly because a mercenary of sorts scathed the wall – apparently he had a rope – and the guard jerked awake, but the mercenary stabbed him with a knife before the guard was able to shoot him.

Out of the pocket of the mercenary I saw some folded paper fall near the growing pool of blood. Then the mercenary ran off, without realizing he left the paper behind. And so when I finally got my heart out of my throat where it seemed to be beating, I went quickly towards the dead guard, snatched the paper note, and ran the rest of the way home.

This is what it said.

Charlie, you are the most beautiful black soul. You are black to your core and it is the reason everyone sees your true colors, and it is why they are trying to kill you, and it is why I love you. Wear your hood and your pale peach gloves. Travel by night to the trestle brook. No guards go there. Stay in that place, eating rabbits and fish. In no certain time, the Underground will find you. Good luck, my beloved. You may kiss another. - Love Crow

So the mercenary was named Charlie? If I was reading it right, the mercenary was Charlie. More importantly, the mercenary was black, like me. There is another like me in this world! But why didn’t I follow the bandit? They could give me answers about myself. How else would I ever find out? And now what?

When I got home, I do not remember laying down, but awoke from such vivid dreams with the paper note tucked deep into my pillow case.

Morning in school seemed different. Murmuring hallway voices seemed more excited than usual, for some reason unknown to me. I really don’t talk to anyone in school and never get in trouble, which is why it surprised me to be called to the guidance office, where I met two – not one – counselors.

“Marmelade,” the woman with curly brown hair reached out her and to shake mine. Then immediately the man with wavy sandy hair. “We wanted to make sure to introduce ourselves to you.” Said Laughlin, the man.

Then the woman, September, explained they were working together in the school because they both were new to the job, and actually were students of counseling school still themselves.

It was strange, I rarely felt I could trust anyone, but they were both warm and kind and seemed so open minded somehow, that I almost wondered if I should be honest and share when they asked me questions.

“Are you involved in any extracurricular activities or sports?” September inquired.

“Sometimes I swim independently, but I also really like writing creatively, but there is no class or group for that here.”

“That is interesting to hear, considering current strictness on creativity.” Laughlin directly mentioning the regime of King Belch shocked me, and I wondered if I had made a mistake, and if they’d both turn on me and report me for artistic behaviors.

But instead September asked me if I wanted to join a small writing group she had been “cooking up.”

“It is not a school sponsored activity. To be honest it is just me and Laughlin. We would be the only other two writers in the group. We meet at the pier by the pond between the trestle and the wall, on Fridays after s

Everyone is Black

by Maggie Hess

Sci fi

main characters – Marmalade, Crow, September, Laughlin, King Belch, Charlie

The loneliest thing in the world is a school with a No Blacks sign at every turn, and you the only black person you know. At least no one seems to notice my skin color, which perplexes me every day, and scares the heebee geebees out of me. Going to this school is like being tortured, although I probably shouldn’t say that, since I could be tortured in reality if King Belch knew I was black. See my skin is the color of milk chocolate, everyone acts like it is the color of a pale peach, so I guess no one knows that I am black, and if they knew what would happen to me? I see in the news people getting thrown in jail and even killed for having dark skin. So I guess you might understand why I am feeling lonely because I am the one person I know who has dark skin, and no one talks to anyone in this world where I live. But it isn’t the fear that bothers me the most really, it is that I am alone and that I don’t know anyone like me.

The strange thing is everyone seems so nice, and it makes me want to really talk to someone, like to really share with them what is happening on my mind. I probably would kill for a friend, I mean I really don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have seen so many people like me slaughtered like poultry, that I guess I have been desensitized about killing I’d say. I guess my real point is I want a friend, and it seems I would do about anything to find one.

I was thinking about all of that, which is my status quo, when something really big happened right in front of me. There is this wall that I walk along on my way back home from school. It actually is the Separation Wall that King Belch had built between North and South. We are at the very tip top of the most Southern part, so we have this huge wall in parts of our district. I was walking towards where I saw a guard snoozing under a tree, but I had to squat behind a bush suddenly because a mercenary of sorts scathed the wall – apparently he had a rope – and the guard jerked awake, but the mercenary stabbed him with a knife before the guard was able to shoot him.

Out of the pocket of the mercenary I saw some folded paper fall near the growing pool of blood. Then the mercenary ran off, without realizing he left the paper behind. And so when I finally got my heart out of my throat where it seemed to be beating, I went quickly towards the dead guard, snatched the paper note, and ran the rest of the way home.

This is what it said.

Charlie, you are the most beautiful black soul. You are black to your core and it is the reason everyone sees your true colors, and it is why they are trying to kill you, and it is why I love you. Wear your hood and your pale peach gloves. Travel by night to the trestle brook. No guards go there. Stay in that place, eating rabbits and fish. In no certain time, the Underground will find you. Good luck, my beloved. You may kiss another. - Love Crow

So the mercenary was named Charlie? If I was reading it right, the mercenary was Charlie. More importantly, the mercenary was black, like me. There is another like me in this world! But why didn’t I follow the bandit? They could give me answers about myself. How else would I ever find out? And now what?

When I got home, I do not remember laying down, but awoke from such vivid dreams with the paper note tucked deep into my pillow case.

Morning in school seemed different. Murmuring hallway voices seemed more excited than usual, for some reason unknown to me. I really don’t talk to anyone in school and never get in trouble, which is why it surprised me to be called to the guidance office, where I met two – not one – cou

Everyone is Black

by Maggie Hess

Sci fi

main characters – Marmalade, Crow, September, Laughlin, King Belch, Charlie

The loneliest thing in the world is a school with a No Blacks sign at every turn, and you the only black person you know. At least no one seems to notice my skin color, which perplexes me every day, and scares the heebee geebees out of me. Going to this school is like being tortured, although I probably shouldn’t say that, since I could be tortured in reality if King Belch knew I was black. See my skin is the color of milk chocolate, everyone acts like it is the color of a pale peach, so I guess no one knows that I am black, and if they knew what would happen to me? I see in the news people getting thrown in jail and even killed for having dark skin. So I guess you might understand why I am feeling lonely because I am the one person I know who has dark skin, and no one talks to anyone in this world where I live. But it isn’t the fear that bothers me the most really, it is that I am alone and that I don’t know anyone like me.

The strange thing is everyone seems so nice, and it makes me want to really talk to someone, like to really share with them what is happening on my mind. I probably would kill for a friend, I mean I really don’t want to hurt anyone, but I have seen so many people like me slaughtered like poultry, that I guess I have been desensitized about killing I’d say. I guess my real point is I want a friend, and it seems I would do about anything to find one.

I was thinking about all of that, which is my status quo, when something really big happened right in front of me. There is this wall that I walk along on my way back home from school. It actually is the Separation Wall that King Belch had built between North and South. We are at the very tip top of the most Southern part, so we have this huge wall in parts of our district. I was walking towards where I saw a guard snoozing under a tree, but I had to squat behind a bush suddenly because a mercenary of sorts scathed the wall – apparently he had a rope – and the guard jerked awake, but the mercenary stabbed him with a knife before the guard was able to shoot him.

Out of the pocket of the mercenary I saw some folded paper fall near the growing pool of blood. Then the mercenary ran off, without realizing he left the paper behind. And so when I finally got my heart out of my throat where it seemed to be beating, I went quickly towards the dead guard, snatched the paper note, and ran the rest of the way home.

This is what it said.

Charlie, you are the most beautiful black soul. You are black to your core and it is the reason everyone sees your true colors, and it is why they are trying to kill you, and it is why I love you. Wear your hood and your pale peach gloves. Travel by night to the trestle brook. No guards go there. Stay in that place, eating rabbits and fish. In no certain time, the Underground will find you. Good luck, my beloved. You may kiss another. - Love Crow

So the mercenary was named Charlie? If I was reading it right, the mercenary was Charlie. More importantly, the mercenary was black, like me. There is another like me in this world! But why didn’t I follow the bandit? They could give me answers about myself. How else would I ever find out? And now what?

When I got home, I do not remember laying down, but awoke from such vivid dreams with the paper note tucked deep into my pillow case.

Morning in school seemed different. Murmuring hallway voices seemed more excited than usual, for some reason unknown to me. I really don’t talk to anyone in school and never get in trouble, which is why it surprised me to be called to the guidance office, where I met two – not one – counselors.

“Marmelade,” the woman with curly brown hair reached out her and to shake mine. Then immediately the man with wavy sandy hair. “We wanted to make sure to introduce ourselves to you.” Said Laughlin, the man.

Then the woman, September, explained they were working together in the school because they both were new to the job, and actually were students of counseling school still themselves.

It was strange, I rarely felt I could trust anyone, but they were both warm and kind and seemed so open minded somehow, that I almost wondered if I should be honest and share when they asked me questions.

“Are you involved in any extracurricular activities or sports?” September inquired.

“Sometimes I swim independently, but I also really like writing creatively, but there is no class or group for that here.”

“That is interesting to hear, considering current strictness on creativity.” Laughlin directly mentioning the regime of King Belch shocked me, and I wondered if I had made a mistake, and if they’d both turn on me and report me for artistic behaviors.

But instead September asked me if I wanted to join a small writing group she had been “cooking up.”

“It is not a school sponsored activity. To be honest it is just me and Laughlin. We would be the only other two writers in the group. We meet at the pier by the pond between the trestle and the wall, on Fridays after school, only if it’s not raining.

That sounded exciting but my nerves were jumping all around.

“Make sure you bring something to write on!” Recommended Laughlin, just before he deposited me back in my boring, cold, awful class.

I had no idea what the teacher was saying. My head was spinning with amazement and a strange happy feeling that I may have found 2 friends.

Fortunately the teacher didn’t call on me.

I skipped all the way home that evening.

nselors.

“Marmelade,” the woman with curly brown hair reached out her and to shake mine. Then immediately the man with wavy sandy hair. “We wanted to make sure to introduce ourselves to you.” Said Laughlin, the man.

Then the woman, September, explained they were working together in the school because they both were new to the job, and actually were students of counseling school still themselves.

It was strange, I rarely felt I could trust anyone, but they were both warm and kind and seemed so open minded somehow, that I almost wondered if I should be honest and share when they asked me questions.

“Are you involved in any extracurricular activities or sports?” September inquired.

“Sometimes I swim independently, but I also really like writing creatively, but there is no class or group for that here.”

“That is interesting to hear, considering current strictness on creativity.” Laughlin directly mentioning the regime of King Belch shocked me, and I wondered if I had made a mistake, and if they’d both turn on me and report me for artistic behaviors.

But instead September asked me if I wanted to join a small writing group she had been “cooking up.”

“It is not a school sponsored activity. To be honest it is just me and Laughlin. We would be the only other two writers in the group. We meet at the pier by the pond between the trestle and the wall, on Fridays after school, only if it’s not raining.

That sounded exciting but my nerves were jumping all around.

“Make sure you bring something to write on!” Recommended Laughlin, just before he deposited me back in my boring, cold, awful class.

I had no idea what the teacher was saying. My head was spinning with amazement and a strange happy feeling that I may have found 2 friends.

Fortunately the teacher didn’t call on me.

I skipped all the way home that evening.

chool, only if it’s not raining.

That sounded exciting but my nerves were jumping all around.

“Make sure you bring something to write on!” Recommended Laughlin, just before he deposited me back in my boring, cold, awful class.

I had no idea what the teacher was saying. My head was spinning with amazement and a strange happy feeling that I may have found 2 friends.

Fortunately the teacher didn’t call on me.

I skipped all the way home that evening.