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Published by artisfun in the blog artisfun's blog. Views: 133

Alright so not a blog entry so much as a start to a story but here it is nonetheless:

World of Grey

I live in a world of grey. Where black and white collide, creating a rare mix of beauty and blindness. Where white is sight and black is not and grey is complicated. Where messy emotions make life both dreary and captivating on the same day and absolutes seem lost in yesterday.

I open my eyes to see the world of my dreams but find only color. Giant green trees sway to a gentle breeze against a backdrop of blue sky dotted with long wispy clouds. A babbling brook bubbles just to my left just as a sweet smell drifts to my nose. It triggers an onslaught of emotions I am not ready for and to my horror I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I catch it as it falls from my chin. The salty liquid glistens on my fingertip and my eyebrows rise in surprise. There is no memory to match the strong sadness I feel clutch my chest, only confusion. But then, there is much I do not remember. My past is just one of many things that have been stolen from me. Ever since the Organization took me away from my home ten years ago I remember only what they want me to. I’m seventeen and cannot remember anything before I was seven.

I roll onto my side and feel the cool grass that sends goosebumps pricking my skin. With that small movement, I notice the cause for the aroma that soaks the air. It is a flower, one I do not recognize. It has dark blue petals speckled with tiny white spots. In the center is a creamy white circle, reminding me of a full moon against a dark midnight sky.

I bring the flower to my nose and inhale. My vision is filled with a forgotten memory. A boy, no more than six or seven sits beside me smiling. We are sitting on the bank of a small stream, dangling our feet in the cool water. His eyes are filled with childish laughter and I instantly feel a strong bond to him. He says something but the words are distant and I feel myself being torn away. His face blurs out of focus and I try desperately to hold onto the vision but before I can do anything it’s gone. I open my eyes and I’m back in reality.

I sigh in frustration. My past seems to haunt me even now. I suppose it’s good to learn something while I still can. After all, this might be the last couple of hours I have left. My life might easily be cut short today. The thought sends a tense shudder rippling across my muscles.

I stand to my feet and survey the area. A warm breeze drives the canopy of trees above me into a flurry. Sunlight dances across the green ground and I vaguely recognizing a small brook no more than five feet from where I stand. It’s the same size as the one from my memory. I step up to it and walk down the bank. I find a spot where the water collects into a three foot deep pool and a smooth rock juts out over the edge of the pool. I climb onto the rock and sit, my feet dangle just over the waterline. This was almost exactly my vision minus the boy. How is that possible? If the memory was true then this brook would be over ten years old and not moved an inch from its path in all that time.

I sit there for a few moments taking it all in before deciding it’s time to get to work. I must focus on the test if I’m going to survive. The Organization has trained me for the last ten years to become the perfect soldier. Well, perhaps not a soldier so much as their own personal mercenary. I was “adopted” by the Organization along with over fifty other young recruits under the age of eight. It trained me and the others in everything imaginable. I am highly skilled in all kinds of weaponry, hand to hand combat, and capable of surviving in any climate. I know complex math in all forms including programming and science and history. I am effectively the ideal human to accomplish anything they have need from me. Of course this will only be proven correct after I incapacitate my competition.

So i can't stand everything from "This was almost exactly my vision....Of course this will only be proven correct after I incapacitate my competition." It doesn't say what I want it to very well and I'm having trouble re-writing it in a way that does.

I know there's a ton of other tech. errors but right now I'm not looking to write a masterpiece, just something that the basic reader can understand and enjoy and maybe even get them to question life a bit. I want them to care about the characters and I want that feeling of disappointment when it's all done because they want more. If I can accomplish that then I'll be happy.

I'm not expecting anyone to read this so I guess it's more of a journal or milestone for myself.

Hmm... now I have the vague feeling of talking to myself in a room full of people when no one is listening.

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