Unwritten chpt 1

Unknowing

The grey clouds formed into black clumps, sharp bright lights striking through it in spite. Rain barged into the window like small rocks thrown down by the angry gods above, making everything outside a fuzzy blur. The dirt road below created brown puddles for laughing children, unafraid of the storm, to soak their clothes that their mothers would have to labor to clean. My fingertips closed the leather book, tracing the thick stitching that formed a rooted tree. I walked down the stairs, invisible mice squeaking behind me each time I took a step. I entered into the living room to see George next to the fire place in his chair, staring at a chess board by him-self, an empty chair on the other side. He looked like an old tired man the way he was sitting, the fire place beside him outlining the dark bags and shadowed demons that clawed wrinkles over the years onto his face. He then moved a black chess piece and sat there, as if he was waiting for someone to make their next move. This sent slight chills up my back.
“You called me?” I said, just barely convincing myself to speak. George still just sat there, his face intent on the imaginary chess game, lost in his own mind. “Geor—”
“Come here.” He said, waving his hand towards him. “Make your move.” I stood there for a bit, confused, but then began to sit onto the empty seat. “No. Don’t sit in that seat….just make your move.” If I had friends I’d be playing hop-scotch and having cake’n’tea at their house, not babysitting my schizophrenic uncle who has imaginary friends.
“Y-yes sir…” I looked at the board, unsure of what to do. I took one of the front right white chess pieces but hesitated. I then moved my hand on top of a piece in the far left. “Wrong” George said, his eyes still on the board. I then moved my hand on top of a middle piece. “Wrong”
“How are they all wrong? I haven’t even moved yet. It’s only the first move. How can you determine that it’s wrong?” I asked, but cautiously, so as not to anger him. His eyes then looked up at mine, away from his obsession of chess. “…Because I have experience. I just know that you wouldn’t win with those choices. An amateur like your-self wouldn’t understand.” He said, his grey blank eyes for the first time showing some what of a spark of interest.
Mother then walked through the front door, the sound of the barbaric rain billowing behind her. “Anieda, help me with dinner,” Mother said, a basket by her side. I followed her to the kitchen, leaving George grumbling alone in the living room. Mother unpacked the food in the basket, taking out vegetables that looked bruised, week old looking bread, and packaged red meat that I prayed was fresh.
Mother was a plain looking woman, her brown hair in a messy bun, covered by a sun hat that had a dark violet ribbon that tied around her jaw. She untied it, placing it on the coat rack, including her jacket that covered and protected her dress from the rain. Once the hat was off you could truly see her plain beauty. Brown eyes, high cheeks, pointy nose, and thin lips, but she had bravery and hardship behind those plain mud irises that carried a long story anyone would find absolutely gorgeous.
“Fill that pot of water and start the fire. Just put the pot outside in the rain, its best not to use up the well water,” Mother told me while cutting the meat into thin slices on the cutting board, the blood forming into red puddles around mother’s hands. I grabbed the pot and took it into the pouring rain, setting it at the front door. I looked out past the towns rusty rooftops and at the worn down stone wall in the distance. The wall was what separated the outside world from ours like a barricaded cage that made us bliss ignorant fools. Looking down the alleyway I could see a stone gate guarded by knights, guns loaded and sharpened swords at their side. I then saw men in plastic suites standing on top of the wall with spraying devices by their sides, their devices pouring out white smoke that fell to the other side of the wall.
I went back inside, leaving the pot out to fill with water. I grabbed a few sticks and a log and placed it into the fire spot, lighting it with a match. I watched the fire grow, engulfing the wood into its mouth like a penury demon starving for life. It sent small cracks and whips of flames to lick up the air. I placed my hands close to the fire, the warmth filling my numb fingertips. “Mother…what are those men in those white plastic suites doing on the wall?” I asked. I had seen them before, but never really cared much to what it was they were doing.
“They are spraying the flora that grows on the wall so it doesn’t contaminate our village.” She answered, focused on preparing the food.
“But…what does the…’flooruh’ do?” I asked, curious.
“I don’t know. Anieda, don’t put your fingers close to the fire, you’ll burn them.” I walked away from the fire and fetched the pot from outside. When I came back in I placed the pot on the burning fire and then started cutting vegetables. “Has anyone left these walls before?” I asked.
“How should I know? And don’t ask silly questions like that. You know it’s forbidden to leave these walls. It’s a dangerous world out there, it’ll eat you alive.” I rolled my eyes, feeling like mothers opinions were over exaggerated, especially since she doesn’t even know what’s out there either. Besides, I was more likely to be eaten alive in these walls than out there by some unknown beast.
“So how did George seem today?” Mother asked.
“ Psychotic, as usual…” I whispered.
“What?” She asked.
“He seemed fine, just a little odd” I said more clearly.
As I was slicing the vegetables, a sudden crash came from the front of the house, the knife cutting my finger. I cursed, placing my mouth on the wound. Mother and I ran into the living room, George still at his crazy chess game. Just beside him on the wooden floor was broken glass and a huge rock that left a gaping hole in the window, and a gaping hole of hatred through my heart. From outside you could hear mischievous kids laughing, their footsteps fading down the puddled road.
“Witch!” One of them yelled. I suddenly felt my heart drop, my head dizzy.
“Damn brats. George? George, darling….are you alright,” Asked mother. His eyebrows were burrowed deep with intense thinking, his eyes still on the chess game, like nothing happened. He looked up, as if angry, but they softened as he saw mother. His eyes then came to life, realizing his surroundings.
“What…what happened?” He said, frustrated and confused. He then looked at me with a glare. That’s what I hated the most, his cold dead glare. It never ceased to send a jolt of anguish through me. Mother stepped in front of me, blocking his dead eyes. “Some children threw a rock at our window as a prank. It’s nothing we can’t fix.” Mother explained, except for the fact of how it wasn’t a prank. It was an act of torment towards me. George just grunted up stairs, the stairs squeaking just as loudly as his grumbles.
Mother went to the hallway, closing the living room door, leaving me to clean up the mess. I heard her pick up the phone and spin a number. I then mended to my cut, tying cloth to stop the bleeding. “A rock was thrown through our window….” Mother must have been talking to the ‘Cities Embassy’ so she could get payment for the damage. “…The reason? We all know the reason.” Her voice began to lower, her aggression obvious. “No….no, we don’t. It was never offered to us!” I could hear mothers pacing. Her belligerent auora built as the conversation did. “You know as well as I that none of those rumors are true…..it was a coincidence….she won the trial!”
They aren’t going to pay for the damage because of the rumors. Typical. “That doesn’t involve you! Now am I going to get my money or-.” Silence, a sound that filled the void between reality and hope. Reality just knocked at the door and swept hope underneath the carpet of mother’s feet. Mother slammed the phone. She then went into the kitchen and finished cooking. As I picked up the bag of glass, it pressed against my cut, making me wince. I threw the bag outside, leaving it beside the front door. I could hear mothers whispered attempts to get George out of his room, her failed attempt leaving her to softly walk back into the kitchen. Afterwards I boarded up the window, and dried up the water that had rained in from the outside. “Anieda, Dinner!” Mother called from the kitchen. I walked in to smell boiled beef and stew. She placed two bowls on the table, the third chair empty.
Dinner was silent, the only sounds slurping and chewing. Silence is usually good as a way to say the foods delicious. In this case I’m hoping to not upchuck the over cooked meat with meshed vegetables. When I was finished I placed my dishes in the sink. “Thank you mother…I’ll be heading upstairs now.” I walked up to my room; George’s rampant grumbling nonsense on the other side of the hallway followed just behind the mice. I then entered my bathroom, the window open, which let in the sounds of carriages passing by and people coming back from the bar. I turned on the sink and plugged the drain, letting the water fill.
When it was filled I turned it off, just staring at the water for a second. The ugly cracked walls creating figures of ugly beasts stained from uglier incidents and the brown tub that hadn’t always been that hideous made the water seem like an oasis. I stuck my head in, lingering for a bit, but pulled my head out to face my reflection in the mirror. The front of my red auburn hair was drenched, sticking to my face in odd patterns, my heart shaped lips pursed. I then looked at my eyes in the mirror, filling with disgust. An eye with ice blue irises, mint yellow outlining the pupil. An eye with moss green irises, a golden yellow outlining the pupil.
Two colored eyes belonging on two complete different people, but they both ended up on me. I pulled the plug in the drain and headed towards my room. I flopped onto my bed, the springs squeaking underneath my weight as if it could break at any moment under the pressure, just like me. I then heard mother creak into her room, her soft snores heard not long afterwards. I got up and slowly slipped out, walking down the railing instead of the stairs, so that the mice wouldn’t wake the household.
I put my shoes and cloak on, walking out the house into weather that wasn’t sure whether it wanted to down pour onto you or stop. I ran across the alley, the wet dirt pulling at my shoes like a suction cup. I came to a corner and stopped, my heart racing out of beat. I looked around it to see a guard walk by and turn onto a road. His oblivious mind most likely was in a world of thinking he’s all mighty, but he can’t even notice a girl hiding behind a corner. I cautiously walked out closer to the wall, looking around to only see empty lit alleys, the sound of singing drunks wasting their pay on liquor. I went through one of the hidden passageways, opening the door to enter into a dusty old room. The room looked like old age was wearing it into the core of its stones, the only life being the moon that slipped through the crack to show living dust built up from years of being a secret hideout. An old ladder taller than could be said was in a corner, leading to the top of the wall. Climbing on the cracked old ladder was like betting on your life with chance. Chance seemed to like me so far, but I hope I’m not abusing him too much.
I peeked my head up cautiously, like a mouse looking out for a taunting owl, making sure no knights were flaunting their gun-swords and actually doing their job. I came up, the wind blowing at my hair, freezing the tip of my nose and cheeks with a frosty touch. I daringly sat at the edge of the wall, facing the outside world openly. I was absolutely breath taken. The dark lush forests were shadowed by the smiling moon, looking like green bunches of thick smoke. Bright stars formed around the horizon, their lights brighter than what could be seen in the blanket of fake light enclosed in the walls. Small black screeching creatures flew above the forest in groups, looking like a black cloud omen among the trees. Sounds of creatures filled the forest, and entrancing spell casted as their secret language hidden behind the walls covering us inside. Sounds could be heard that I could never describe in its perfected oddity.
My favorite time to come to the wall is during the summer. That was when the stars from above would come down to the ground and glow green, flashing an array of patterns. It was as if the stars were coming as a greeting to the land in celebration of life. It was always worth the risk of coming up here. Sadly, since it was raining, the stars wouldn’t light on the ground tonight. I suddenly heard rustling of a metal beast, holding a gun for its mere haughtiness, farther down the wall. I looked down to see a knight yelling “halt,” his gun ready in a hand, a screaming siren in the other. I ran down the chance taking ladder, its age barely able to bare its grace on my rush to escape. Just heading out the door I could hear the knight struggling to go down the ladder until the ladder finally gave in to its weak structure, plummeting the knight into the stone ground. I hid myself into the shadows, groups of knights running past me. I then slipped back to the alley, avoiding sounds of metal.
A bunch of boys were walking my way, their laughing and singing making it obvious that they got into some sort of trouble with their dads alcohol cabinet. I tried avoiding them, but they instantly knew who I was. “Looky here! It’s the town witch!” The older boy yelled, walking towards me like an ignorant fool trying to show his superiority. The boys then circled me to a wall, their taunting loud and all at once like a hectic storm. “What’s a witch like you doing out here so late?” The older boy asked, getting closer to me, too close for comfort. He was at least a head taller than me, his beer breath foaming around his mouth like a wretched corpse rotting from the inside out. “It’s sad. Such a waste for a pretty girl like you to be a witch. You could’ve been fun to play with.” He held my jaw with his hands, making me face his groping stare.
“I’m…” I tried whispering, tears pinching at my eyes at the embarrassment.
“You’re what?” He said, pulling at my hair.
“I-I’m not a witch…” I whispered, my head facing down; Trying to keep strong by not crying is the hardest thing.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you” He said, his face so close that it seemed he didn’t understand the concept of personal space. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding back the tears. I then screamed “I’m not a witch!” pushing the boy to the muddy ground. I couldn’t believe what I had done; It was triumph with a dire consequence. His face was utterly shocked, even almost scared. It then turned into pure belligerence. I instantly started running, scared for my life. “Don’t just stand there you baboons! Get her!” He yelled. “You’re gonna die witch!”
I was fast, but I didn’t have enough energy to outrun them the whole way home, especially since mother would know I had snuck out. I ran a few corners, finally losing them, their yells far off into the maze of alleyways. I sat down on a crate, catching my breath. Around me were old beat up households, fires in trash cans and stray dogs and cats randomly running out to chase a meal; The food chain for animals was not much more different from human interaction. This must have been the penury ghettos. I hadn’t realized how far I had strayed. I stood up and looked around for a place to hide. I then saw an abandoned house, all the windows broken like jutting teeth, the door just barely hanging by its hinges. I knew the boys didn’t have the guts to go inside a place like this so it would be the perfect place to hide. The boy’s yells suddenly echoed to the nearest alley, their footsteps nearing with hungry anticipation of a hunt.
I snuck into the house, the door swinging behind me as if to welcome me into the ominous abode like any normal house guest. The room radiated with a mysterious feel, a dark secret seeming to try and push its way through the old, peeling, blue wall paper that had water stains dripping down into webs of unknown pictures. The queer room had no furniture, only the furniture’s imprint left on the, what hadn’t always been, green wooden floor, strange papers scattered randomly around the room; It was evident that I wasn’t the first to visit.
I tip toed around, holding my breath, in anxiety, so that the boys wouldn’t hear me. The floor beneath me suddenly slipped underneath my feet, as if it couldn’t hold the burden of another invader entering its quiet space, my breath only able to let out a gasp. I found myself in complete darkness, except for a splintering hole above me. I could feel the knot’s and bruise’s inception as I stood up. I felt blindly around me, my hands landing on a brick wall. I then felt what seemed to be a torch, remembering the matches in my dress pocket.
I lit the match and picked up the torch, letting it come to life only to show its pathetic languid glow. Around me was some sort of tunnel, but behind me was a dead end of stone walls that forbade me from even thinking about going another way. I hopelessly tried jumping up to the hole, but it was at least five feet high. I looked down the pitch back passageway with a realization that there was no way else out, a brevity of bravery following me through.
As I walked on, the tunnel started to get smaller, and smaller, until I was forced to crawl through a dirt pathway, desperately wanting to ignore the slight brush of bugs crawling on me. I then saw a subtle light up ahead, it making me feel like an angel had sent its munificent help to me. When I got to the hole I pulled myself up, laying on the ground in relief. When I opened my eyes I saw weird shapes in the sky covering the brighter than usual stars. I looked around me, seeing large tall poles with weird clumps at the top surrounding me. No beat up houses or stores down alleyways were around me. No cheap light poles were around to sadly light sketchy alleys.
I widened my eyes, my heart racing. They were trees. I felt the ground beneath me, feeling what was called flora for the first time. It was slightly prickly, but soft almost, like petting a wet shaggy dog. It was cold and moist, sending chills of goose-bumps up my arm. I stood and looked out at what must have been the wall, the place we had all lived in our entire lives, yet we didn’t even know what it had looked like. It had green vines tangled in the cracks up the wall, moss growing out from underneath it. That was what those men in plastic suites were killing, even though we still had it in our own beat up village.
I suddenly remembered mother saying how it was forbidden to leave the walls. "I hadn’t meant to leave; I just kind of ended up here. Maybe if I knock on the doors and tell the guards," I mumbled to myself, feeling a sense of panic as I thought of going back inside that bubbled prison. “I can’t go back….they will hate me for being contaminated….as if they already don’t hate me already….” Just the thought of being in those walls sent a lump of suffocation down my throat. If they still believed I was a witch, then there was no reason to go back. I looked at the wall once more, only for reassurance, and started walking the other way into the unknowing.

I forgot to indent when i copied this onto here....