Alright. :D Here's the next chapter. :))) I'm really excited for this story, and it took a really long time, trying to make it read perfect. :P I'm weird like that. Lol.
Oh, let me know what you think of the formatting for the journal, and when it's not the journal. :)
November 28th, 2551.
"I don't know why I'm doing this, exactly," I wrote, my shaking hands smearing the ink in places, smudging it in others. "But I feel like I should leave you behind... I feel that it's important somehow, or it's going to be later, in the long distance future.
"Am I a little insane, referring to this journal as 'you'? Maybe, but at this point, I just don't care, maybe not as much as I should... So many people have died, and the remainder of us that are still living are reduced to nothing by the thick smog that surrounds us. I believe I have a right to be a little insane, after three months of hell, living in this darkness that the government still claims 'habitable.'
"How can this place be habitable, I want to fucking scream, when it isn't even a desirable place to be anymore? Every morning, I awaken to find soot smeared across my window. All the plants are dead, eaten away by acid that falls from the sky. I can't see the sun anymore; it's covered by a thick haze... Everything is dark and dead, and I feel like that's what I'm slowly becoming. Darkened and dead on the inside."
I sigh heavily, and wipe my eyes. The candlelight dances around my room, filling the room with shadows. A faint glimmer of light seeps in from my bedroom window, as I glance out of it in thought... What else should I write, I wonder, and then place my pen back on the page.
"I...I just hope that somebody reads this, someday. It doesn't really matter when, or how, but I want somebody to understand what I went through...My only advice is to not believe the damn government, however hard they try to tempt you promises. Trust me, they're just empty ones.
"The government is full of dirty, greedy people. They're hands are stained with invisible blood. I know that it's there, and if I squint, I can see it dripping from their clothes...
"There's only one man that I'm convinced is angel dressed in black, and that would be the anonymous soul who convinced the President to give the tickets away in a lottery. Because, without him, my family and countless others would be dead by now. Or will be.
"Why is it that I get a chance to live, when everybody else doesn't? Is something or someone looking out for me? Why would they do that in the first place? What makes me so damn special? I leave tomorrow, being sent off in the Santa Maria, while the rest of my family is aboard the Nina and Pinta.
"Yeah... you guessed it by now, I'm sure. Three spaceships, named after Columbus' ships.
"Talk about originality, right? But the government has never been known for being original, has it? Now that I think about it, Columbus wasn't really a person to look up to, with killing the Native Americans and all... I hope that we don't kill the Martians, if there are any up there."
I let out a frustrated snarl; why am I rambling about unimportant things? I should try to explain every historical thing I can think of... Twirling the pen, I write a few more lines, my hands now shaking worse than ever, from fear or excitement, I'm not quite sure.
"I'm locking you up in a metal coffin, dear friend. Don't hate me, please; it's the only way that you'll be safe, I reckon. I hope that you'll make it through, anyways...
"You'll have to excuse me, but I've never been good at saying goodbye. They've always been pretty shitty, actually, now that I think about it...
"So, here you are, dear journal. It's been a good three months, but I'm signing out... Adios, Ciao, Au Revoir, and the like...
I rub my eyes again, with the palms of my hands. Muttering angrily at the constant itch, I close the last page of my journal, before placing it in a metal box I purchased a few weeks ago.
"You should be safe in there, buddy," I murmur as I close the lid, and push a few buttons, depressurizing the air inside. The box hums for a bit, before letting a soft hiss out, and it beeps in conformation that the pressurization is complete.
Smiling slightly, I look around my room, trying to remember it forever. I purposefully try to not look at the smoggy outside world, and focus on the dancing candlelit images instead...
A soft knock echoes on my doorframe, and I snap my focus there.
It's my mother, peering into my dimly lit room. She has a habit of checking in on me every night, ever since the broadcast of the President's plan. I don't really mind it, surprisingly.
What I do mind, on the other hand, is her tired expression, her baggy eyes. She looks sick, but I suppose that I do too, and so does the rest of my family.
"Yeah, Mom?" I respond, and my voice is rough from being dry.
"I was just wondering if you were feeling okay, since we leave tomorrow, and all..." she said, trailing off and biting her lip. Another nervous habit of hers, besides twirling her hair and talking too fast.
"I'm..." I hesitated, not quite sure how to explain my feelings. "I'm just nervous, I guess," I mumble quietly. I shift my gaze away from her, and look outside the window, to the sick looking sky.
I can hear her muffled footsteps as she approaches me, but I still fix my gaze on the window, instead of her face. I don't want her to see mine.
"Daniel?" she asks, and I feel a hand placed on my shoulder. "Daniel," she says again, a bit more seriously this time. "Look at me."
My head turns slowly, as if on its own accord. Her blue eyes are worried, and it hurts my heart to look at her. The last three months have been the hardest on her, I know. She's the peacemaker of the family; she always takes on everybody else's burdens. I wish that she wouldn't, but she cares too much about us to let it go.
Something in my expression must not have comforted her, because she wraps her hand around mine, and before I know it, I'm crying like a damn four year-old.
I try to hold back my sobs, but she just wraps her arms around me, and it doesn't help the situation any. I'm like a floodgate that just burst open.
"Shh...." she comforts me. "It's alright, Danny. We're all scared. It's okay to cry."
If it were any other situation, I would roll my eyes at my childhood name. But seeing as how my eyes are pouring out tears like a faucet, I'm incapable of doing so at the current moment...
"Why am I so important, Mom? Why did we win the lottery ticket, when my friends didn't? What makes me so goddamn special?" I manage to choke out, and I sound pathetic.
"Oh...That's what you're upset about..." she hums, thinking. "I don't know if I have an answer to that," she responds. "But I do know that for some reason, we're special. Maybe we won't know it now, or next week, but later on in our lives, we can look back and say, 'That's why.'"
My sigh fills the room, and she hugs me tighter to her chest.
"Thanks, Mom," I say, drying my eyes with my dirty palms. She ruffles my hair, and a touch of a smile graces her lips. I frown slightly, as I try to rearrange my hair, and she smiles wider. I watch her glance around the room, before she lands on the box I bought.
I shift in my chair slightly, hoping that she won't disapprove.
"It's, uh, a box that I bought."
She smirks. "I can see that, Daniel."
"Right," I reply, feeling my face grow hot with a faint blush. "I put my journal in there. I'm leaving it behind, because...I just feel like I should."
She surprises me by smiling again, and walking out of my room. When she returns a few seconds later, she has a copy of today's newspaper in her hand.
"Open it, Daniel. We're going to fill it with important things."
Author's Note: :D
Hey, everyone. I'm so happy with this chapter, and I'm really glad that people like the story so far... I may add a little section later on about Daniel aboard the spaceship, but I don't think that it's a crucial part of the storyline...yet. :)
Next chapter will introduce a new character, which I still have to find a name for... :P I'm thinking "Samantha," but that might be a little too modern for the time period. :P
Anyways, what's your opinion of the story so far? Anything that doesn't fit right, or felt awkward?
Please let me know! Review... :)
All works: © AvidWriter-92. Fictionpress User I.D. 717443. 2010.