GENIUS HOUR TWO; the creepy girl in the woods

GENIUS HOUR TWO; when everything went to Tartarus

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The smoke rose above the trees in a warning.

Tatum and I examined it carefully, having scouted ahead. “Think the others can see it?” He asked me.

“I think that’s the least of our worries,” I tapped my fingers thoughtfully against my chin. “I’m more concerned with who started it.”

“You think one of the teams did it?”

I turned my gaze to him, surprised. “Don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I was thinking that it was caused by lightning or something. There was that storm last night on the train.”

“Nethertheless, I think we should steer clear of it for now.”

“Could the groups be that far ahead?” His eyebrows furrowed. “We just barely got back into the woods.”

I looked at the smoke thoughtfully. “It’s….possible.” I said slowly, “so for now, let’s just keep going. We need to steer clear of that fire though; if the woods catch, we’re screwed.”

“I agree.”

I nodded, a thought coming to mind. I sat my backpack on the ground and started to rummage through it. “What are you looking for?” Tatum stood over me, eyebrows furrowed.

“The map,” I said. “I’ve kept track of exactly where we are, based on the miles we walk a day. I need to check something.”

He didn’t say anything as I unrolled it across my knees, taking out my pen. Doing a few calculations in my head and glancing at the compass, I guess where we were. “It’s what I thought.” I looked up at him. “The smoke is coming from a disaster zone.”

His eyes narrowed, “what?”

I leaned back on my haunches. “I know. Another group went to one and obviously something went wrong.”

“Should we go take a look?”

Someone stumbled out of the trees and Tatum’s gun was out of his holster and trained on the person. It was a girl; she had a slightly crazed look to her eyes and patches of her hair were missing. The remaining locks looked as if it had been burned into clumps around her skull. Nasty scabs covered her skin.

“Please don’t shoot,” her voice was raspy as she threw her hands in front of her face. Her movements were jerky.

“Who are you.”

“I’m from group ten,” She said.

I glanced at Tatum, then back to her. “Is your the group that started the fire?”

She nodded. “Yes. The rest of them are gone. I will be soon.”

“What do you mean?” I rolled up the map and stuffed into my back before standing. “Did the fire kill them?”

She shook her head. “The fire was started on accident; the place released a chemical on us.”

Tatum raised the gun slightly, casting a concerned look my way. “A chemical? That does what, exactly?”

“It made us all sick.” She started to cough, horrible hacking sounds. She spit blood onto the ground before straightening up. She wiped her mouth on the pale skin of her arm. “Some of us were okay for a while. They started attacking each other like rabid animals.

“They’re...eating each other.” She started to shake. “We all got it,” her voice took on a crazed note, “even me. I’m going to be a monster soon.”

“How many are left?” I asked, trying to snap her out of her weird mood.

Her fever induced eyes flashed to my face. “There’s at least three more. They’re after me. They’ll be here soon.”

Tatum’s gaze locked in on my panicked one. “We need to get out of here. Now.” He lowered the gun, scanning our surroundings before turning to the girl. “Come with us.”

“No!” She screeched I winced. Her scream had probably alerted them of our location. “I’m infected!” She spit blood. “Kill me now and get out of here.”

Tatum shook his head. “ No. We’ll help you.”

She fell to her knees, her shoulders sagging. “Please. Show me mercy. Don’t let me become like them.”

He looked at me; his eyes were wide. I turned to her. “We can help you!”

Her shoulders began to shake and she started to wail. “Nooo!” Her head snapped up. “You can’t save me! The hunger is too much!” Her eyes started to roll around in her head.

“You just need to come with us,” I said as calmly as I could, trying to sooth her.

She flung herself at Tatum, cackling madly. His arm jerked up and he fired. She fell over, not moving.

“We should leave,” his voice was cold.

“You didn’t have a choice-” I tried to say.

He cut me off, still not looking at me. “Now.”

I nodded once and followed him back the way we came.

GENIUS HOUR; Porter wakes up

Genius hour post; THE END OF MY NOVEL

Epilogue

Porter's head hurt. He had been given another injection a few hours ago, but it had worn off and he was awake again.

He was spread on a metal table, the kind they use for surgeries. His glasses were on a table next to him and he stood to retrieve them.

There was only one window in the room. He walked towards it, swaying slightly. He stopped and grabbed the table to regain his balance. When he was sure that he would not fall over, he stepped forward and peered out the glass.

Old buildings rose high into the sky. The streets below were dirty and full of people. They were dressed in rags and trying to sell things from stands off the side of the street. He seemed to be high up; the ground was far below him.

The door opened behind him and he turned to see a man with short black hair and was wearing a black suit. "Porter Rydell," his voice was clipped and crisp.

"Where am I?"

He looked out the window before facing Porter. "New Las Vegas."

"What?" Porter looked out the window and back at the man. "You're joking."

"I assure you I am not," he man smiled a little. "You were brought here by Barton. Apparently you're one hell of a medic and your friend is an exceptionally good fighter."

The events of the previous day seemed to wash over Porter all at once. "There was a kid with us. Tatum-Eric Steele Jr. He had just been shot. Is he alive?"

The man nodded. "Yes he is. But not for long. Unless you agree to help us."

"What do you want me to do?" Porter asked quickly. Tatum was his friend. He would do whatever it took to keep him alive.

The man smiled, "We need a medic to patch up the Glades after the gladiator fights."

"The what?"

"Gladiator fights. Things in Los Vegas are a little different than they are in Los Angeles," The man leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest. "Here we have weekly matches. Fights to the death. People love to gamble on them. The Lee girl has already consented to fight in them as long as the Dashner boy is alive and remains with her. Mr Steele will be returned to you three if you agree to the terms."

Porter absorbed the information for just a few seconds before he asked, "what are the terms."

He smiled. "Well Mr Rydell, Jared will explain those to you soon enough."

"And who are you?"

"Charles Mason." The man held his hand out, "I run the gladiator fights. And practically all of Los Vegas."

Porter took his hand and shook it firmly. "Now," he stood straighter, "Where are my people?"

THE END

Creative Non-Fiction

Dear reader,

I must confess, I have a very difficult time writing Non-fiction. When I write, I write purely for the magic. The fairies, the monsters, the wizards, I love all of it. When you take that away from me, I am a shriviling husk of a writer. Sure, I have some great stories to tell, but what fun is telling them if they aren't greatly exagerated and containing magic and impossible things?

Sincerly, 

A xx

MY ATEMPT AT A NON FICTION

Johnny Meyer grew up in Alaska, with six brothers. Their closest neighbors lived a few miles away, so they virtually stuck together. He happened to be the worst of the bunch; constantly causing problems and what not.

On his birthday, when he turned seven, he was given a brand new swiss army knife. "We had this old oak tree in our back yard, with a swing atached to it," he said, "My little brother Steve loved that swing. After getting my new knife, I went outside and climbed the tree, just waiting for him."

Sure enough, Steve went outside and began to swing back and forth and sure enough, Johnny started sawing away at the rope holding the swing to the tree. After sawing for a good two minutes, there was a snapping sound and a shreak, and sure enough you saw Steve flying over the yard, landing in a heap on the ground.

"My mom heard him yell and came outside," Said the Meyer brother, "She yelled my name and I climbed down the tree and handed over my knife without another word."

The swing incident wasn't the only exciting moment of Johnny Meyers life. He had too many stories to count.

A STRANGE PAST

"Grandma?" Myra's huge blue eyes looked up from a box she had been going through. "What's this?"

Grandma looked up to see a gold jewel encrusted key dangling from Myra's tiny hands, the lights catching the jewels and reflecting off like a rainbow. Grandma smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes making them twinkle.

"Well my dear," She said as she studdied her blanket she was knitting, "Come here and I'll tell you a story."

The little girl walked forward and sat down in front of her grandma's rocking chair, looking intently up at her. "Once upon a time," she began. "When I was young, I stumbled across a secret garden behind a wall at my home in London. The key fit perfectly in the door-"

"How'd you get the key?" The little girl looked up at her in wonder.

Her grandma smiled, "That my dear, is a very long story."

And so the story began.




ARIA HAD NOT BEEN OUTSIDE IN A VERY LONG  TIME.....

She had been in the manor, kept inside because of the rain, for at least a week. To a fifteen yearold who loved the gardens, a week felt like forever. She moped around the enormous house, trying to find something to do. After losing her governess on the second floor, Aria attempted to break into one of the locked rooms on the forth.

She successfully used a hair pin, jiggling it until the lock came loose, and the door opened easily. slipping inside, she began to look around. A glint caught her eye. It had come from under the bed. After dropping on her hands and knees, she began to search for the sparkle. Not regarding the several nasty things that couldve made a home underneith, she reached and felt for a second before she felt something. Grasping her hand around it, she withdrew a key.

FAIRY TALES

Aria was not a murderer.

   Her life was suspicious, that was for sure; daughter of a wealthy king, a beautiful heir to the throne, and she had a secret.

   She left her castle every night with her twelve sisters to dance.

   Dancing was forbidden in the kingdom of Gahmole; The king said that it was disruptive and unproductive, therefore it was not to be done. Aria was an amazing dancer and didn't care for rules; that was the first problem.

The second was that whenever the princesses disappeared, there was a murder. The body would be found in a grotesque way, with some type of clue leading back to the princesses.

But they never left the castle; so it couldn't be them.

Someone was trying to frame the royal family, and they were doing an excelent job of making sure that it was working.

Free Reviews

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Thanks Babes!

A xx

WELLS HAWKINS, Gladiator

Prologue 



The lights from the arena could be seen from miles. They lit up the crumbling buildings beyond the walls, New York's once famous skyscrapers nothing but tattered ruins taken over by the dead. The lights glowed, brightening the city at night, making it difficult to sleep. To an outsider, the arena might be considered beautiful; To all of us in Ephrim, it was a death sentence.

A place where the living were taken to be sacrificed by the dead.

But the government wouldn't say that; oh no. They were just trying to find a cure, hosting the fights to earn money and support from the riches. They said they wanted to keep our loved ones safe from the monsters behind the giant walls. The government would never admit to the lies.

They want control, and they had it.

The arena reminded us of this.


Chapter One

I wasn't allowed on the roof at night; It was breaking curfew, and we could be fined heavily for it. But there was a place, behind a vent where I was hidden from any prying eyes. The shadows made sure of it. I watched as the Tanqilitors drove down the streets in their army jeeps, eyes and flashlights sweeping the road.

They passed the Rideout's and Davis's apartment, moving onto the next broken down apartment. I watched them for another few minutes before they passed my house, and then my street, turning in the corner. I let out a sigh of relief. They were gone.

I waited another minute, scanning the roads, making sure that all of the tranks had actually left before swinging myself over the side of the two story building. Using the old bricks as foot holes, I climbed down swiftly, swinging my body into me and Cole's room.

I landed with a soft thud, and I glanced over to see if Cole had stirred; he hadn't. His short, messy blond hair was sticking to his forehead and his tiny body was curled up into a ball on his side. He snored quite loudly for a three year old, and I couldn't help but smile at him.

I kicked off my tattered boots and climbed onto the small mattress next to him and fell asleep.



The music began in the morning.

The Unions Nation Anthem began to play all over the city, the speakers on the outside of each apartment crackling as the old speakers blared the song. I sat up, blinking. Cole was still asleep beside me, wrapped in a tattered quilt.

The song ended, and normally the speakers would shut off, but a male voice came booming over the city. "Good Citizens of Ontarian. I regret that I must announce that Gladiator Adam Mitchel has passed. He was attacked last night at his training center. We are attempting to track his killer. Due to the homicide, we will be having a choosing ceremony tomorrow. All people, the ages 15 to 18 will be required to attend. Thank you for your time, our deepest condolences from the Empire."

The line went dead.