i've moved

I only update nonexistent-chimera.tumblr.com and slytherincandorproductions.weebly.com.

My writing is now private, but I might occasionally post here. Like right now.

UNTITLED STORY #1

“I… I am going to die.” Some things, like that, I can say with certainty, as sure as the sky is blue. Or is it? Up here it’s just black, with little silver dots called stars providing the absolute minimal amount of light.

My lungs… are they working? My eyes certainly are. A voice in my head, one I have come to know after so much isolation from humanity in general, screams out, “Water. Waaaaaaaterrrrrrrr. Must. Not. Die.” I know my real concern should be air. My oxygen tank has become near depleted. I will die. Certainly. As sure as the sky is black with little silver dots called stars.

 I scream mentally at The Voice., because if I want to get out of here and back to that strange place called Earth, I need my brain to turn back on again. How did I get here anyway? My brain starts working, but only barely, and I remember all. Something about a crime I didn’t commit, and eternal punishment, and a space prison gone awry after an attack from three thousand vicious aliens who didn’t know what they were dealing with.

That’s all I can recall now, as my brain pulses in and out of conscious thought. “AIRRRRRRR. WAAAAATERRRRRRRR. MUST LIVE. NEED EARTH.” Stupid Voice, not shutting up when I tell it to. Do I even have control of my mind anymore? I need other people’s company, not just the psychotic inmates I was cooped up with for six millenia. No, wrong word. Years. Yes, years. That’s right.

To distract my mind from dying, I count stars. “One. Two. Three. What’s next? Five? No. Four. I hate life. Am I dead? I feel dead. Please tell me I’m dead.” That wasn’t The Voice. That was me. Me. My own conscious thought, the thing that makes me human. Why am I not dead? I should be.

 How much longer do I have? I twist around, attempting to check the dials on my oxygen tank, but discover I can’t. I hope I’m somehow evolving into a freaky abiotic organism or something like that. I want to be abiotic. Then I’d not need oxygen. What would I carry around, then, a methane tank? Or nitrogen?

 My head feels squeezed. I must have air. The Voice interjects, “WILL DIE. AIRRRRRRRRRR. WAAATERRRRRR. FOOOOOOOD. SHELLLLLLTERRRRRRR.” My eyes close. I can’t keep them open any longer. I am dead. I am dead. I slap myself on the arm, but it’s excruciating just to move. I am dying. Dying. I need to think of clever last words… no. It doesn’t matter now. No one knows I’m dying. Not even Stacey.

Who’s Stacey?

I don’t remember because my heart slows down and slows down and stops.






UNTITLED STORY #2 (a bit like a fanfic of my own novel because I'm so lame like that)



Part One

How old was I, fourteen? No, sixteen. I’d just gotten my brand new computer that day. Now it would be considered an ancient model, but back then it was the pinnacle of technology. I met John Doe online, in a chat room, and we talked for a while. He seemed to understand me perfectly, and I knew him just as well even though we hadn’t even met in person. In any other set of circumstances, I’d have wondered what John would think of me if he saw me in real life. Would he see a freckle-faced mousy youngster, or the girl of his dreams? But I didn’t care, because he knew me better than anyone and I told him all my secrets. Once he said to me, “Leslie, I don’t care where you’re from or what you look like, because you’re the most amazing, fun, and sincere person I’ve ever met. I want to know you forever and ever. I think I’ve fallen in love with your personality.” That comment sent butterflies up through my adolescent stomach and I turned off my computer and jumped around my room until Aunt Eleanor noticed me. “Oh, Les, this isn’t about some guy, is it?” I laughed, as my archaic Aunt would never understand how John and I met and became so close. So I responded, “He’s not just some guy, Auntie.”

Part Two

Oh, why did I do that? Why was I such a terrible, impulsive child? I was good with technology, and everyone knew, so why did I have to go and hack into the Authorities’ databases? No, I don’t regret that part. That led to me meeting John Doe in person and falling for him once more, even if his name wasn’t actually John and he was a bit weird in the head at times. What I regret the most is not saving his life. I was seventeen or eighteen, and so was John (whose real name was Jesse Watson). Because of the incident involving the Authorities’ databases, I was sent to fight in an interstellar regiment. Jesse, who apparently was a time traveler, was up there with me, but at the time I didn’t know he was actually John. He shot an authority that was threatening to kill our good friend Kathica. I liked Kat a lot, but I secretly hoped she wasn’t developing feelings for Jesse and vice versa. Killing the woman must’ve made him too guilty, even though she was a bit of a virago, because he flew a shuttle, all by himself (a very bad move, considering his clutzyness) and crashed onto an alien homeland. He went psycho, shooting them off in every direction, until his gun was depleted and they came at him in droves. And I, what did I do? I slept. I freaking slept. Oh, Leslie, you idiot. Kat, who happened to be rooming with me, told me that Jesse was going off to kill himself, but did I do anything about it? No. I just mubled, “Ehhh…” and turned over under the covers like the idiot I was. His last words: “I deserved it. I freaking deserved it.”

more covers!

This is two days' worth of work for me. :) BTW, I'm thinking of doing a tutorial video on this right after I figure out how to record it... 

This was the quickest one out of this batch.... all I had to do was find a picture, crop it a little, and put words on top!

I redid this one so many times... I fail at making covers with people in them!

I made this one twice, from start to finish, because I forgot where I saved it on my laptop. Silly me.

Actually, this was the easiest one to do. All I did was get the face picture, then layer the earth picture on top!

This was pretty fun to make and I gave all the little pictures weird names on my laptop! (ex: WHATDOESTHEFOXSAY.jpg)

Getting the person in there was pretty much the hardest think I've had to do in a cover...

It was actually really fun making the girl look like a silhouette!

people to write about

I was bored so I thought, "Why not make a bunch of characters without an actual story?!" So I did. You're welcome to use them, if you want! I've written some of them before, but I've changed some things for those people. Also, they're not as detailed as they could be, so you can experiment with that too. And I'm really bad at names (people have even told me this to my face), so sorry about that! XD

• Name: Lilian Hayden
• Age: younger than a teen, maybe about 8-10
• Gender: F
• Appearance: Short for her age. Dark blonde hair which she really hates, as she thinks the color looks weird with her slightly darker skin. Blue/gray eyes.
• Personality: VERY mature for her age. She has an advanced reading level, and because of that, she knows about more advanced (middle school) topics. She uses big words a lot in conversations, just to show off. However, she has this one friend (you can make up this person) who hasn't ever seen this side of her, and knows her just as a sweet and innocent kid.
• Background: Her parents have quite a bit of money to spend on her education and well-being in general. They've gotten her to skip a grade, but she feels really out of place among all those older and taller kids.

• Name: Jason Halloway
• Age: 17-19
• Gender: M
• Appearance: Fairly tall (about 5'11") and average weight. Light brown hair that always gets in his even-lighter-brown eyes. He has creases around the corners of his mouth, and dimples.
• Personality: He's nice. Too nice. Everyone is always taking advantage of him, and he tries to be as indifferent as possible, but it's actually hurting him and he'd never tell anyone. He'd die for a lot of people, including those he doesn't know well, and he can talk to anyone. Basically, if he was a character in Divergent, he'd be in Abnegation without a doubt. 
• Background: He's from a middle class family, and is an only child. His parents frequently fight and he's stuck in between it all. He loves them both and is scared that they'll split apart.

• Name: Cindy Donnelly
• Age: 12-13
• Gender: F
• Appearance: Smallish and thin. Black hair in a pixie cut, dark eyes, pretty pale. Described as unattractive. Despite her size, she has an intimidating look about her. 
• Personality: Mean and sarcastic most of the time. If you leave her alone, she might even be able to look your way without smirking, but if you rub in the fact that she's short, you'll instantly regret it. However, when she's tired, she doesn't talk as much and actually accepts hugs. She's known for trusting no one.
• Background: Her older brother, Andrew, has gone off to college and she doesn't miss him (which says something about her relationship with her family.) She keeps her distance from her parents, but when they talk, it's usually about her grades and boring things like that.

• Name: Josh Kaplan
• Age: 13-16, somewhere in that range
• Gender: M
• Appearance: With shortish black hair and really dark eyes, he's pretty average looking except for a scar on his left cheek. (You can make up a backstory for him about this!)
• Personality: Generally quiet and reserved, a bookish type. He's also a little sporty, though not many people know this. At school he's one of those guys who flies under the radar while making the honor roll every time. He's really shy/introverted, but don't underestimate him for this!
• Background: He lives with only his dad, as his mom mysteriously disappeared. He has a slight crush on this girl (who you can make up) but they never talk because he's too scared to say hi.

I'll write more later! This was actually really fun to do :)

i made a cover!

Because it's been awhile again, I'll randomly talk about my life. 

So while I was doing random things, the doom and horror of the swingdancing unit descended upon me. My partner seems nice, though, so that's good! We don't really dance, just goof off and run around the gym.

 And I have my cover for the HC sequel:

Are you judging my pen name?! Don't judge my pen name!

Hey, while I'm at it, why don't I put up a few terrible-quality pics I took? :)

Yay for pics of the moon for no reason :D

See above.

Yet again :D

Just because.

OMG IT'S A SELFIE!!!1

Farewell for now :)

what i don't look for in a story/book: continued

Remember that post I did a while ago? Over here? And I said I'd continue it? Well, look no further! After an immense bout of boredom (and a sudden urge to do flute practice even though some random family friend's in my house. In fact, I'm playing while writing this), I decided to do so. Without any further ado, here's the list.

• LOTS of little, insignificant characters who are really easy to get mixed up. I sometimes find myself wondering, "Wait, is Joe related to Sam or Billy?" and as it turns out, Sam and Billy are actually brothers and Joe is their second cousin thrice removed or something distant and obscure like that. Keeping everyone's names straight really makes the story SO MUCH less enjoyable, even if it's the best plot ever.

• Characters who seem to have it all. Example: Bobelina is a dazzlingly beautiful blonde who gets all the guys. She's also a certified genius with the world's highest IQ, having graduated from university at age twelve. Plus, she has a three-minute mile and is a virtuoso on the piano, guitar, drum set, and alto sarrusophone. And on top of all this, she has the best personality ever and you just HAVE to love her. Honestly, people like that annoy me so much. Good characters have to have flaws, otherwise they're just not believable.

• Random subplots inserted for no reason. Example: Lilly has to save the world by collecting some sort of ancient artifact, and at the same time, Lilly's brother's friend's girlfriend is cheating on Lilly's brother's friend. And at random points during the saving-the-world plot, there are paragraphs describing Lilly's brother's friend's girlfriend's love life, and there is absolutely no significance whatsoever to the rest of the story.

• Enormous paragraphs that go on and on like this, with lots of semicolons and other punctuation, that make it difficult to follow the plot; I myself have a tendency to skip big paragraphs, even if they have some crucial clue to the outcome of the story. Lalalala. This paragraph will go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on...... *trails off into distance*

That's pretty much it. By the way, I love copypasting! ;)

hello again, dear blog which i have abandoned.

I seriously haven't posted in a while. When I was gone, I turned fourteen, started two more novels, and developed an obsession with photography. It's not like I'm actually good, though...

I'm not actually good or anything, again. But it's fun :3  I had to edit some of them, but not much (just a little cropping and stuff). 

So, about the books I've started... The first one is a sequel to my Nanowrimo, and it's all about my favorite character... LESLIE JACKETT! I mean, hello?! A hyperactive, tech-obsessed, immature freaky girl?! Awesomeness. I don't have a cover for it yet...

The other one's about a society where differences are overvalued and similarities are overlooked and identical twins are split at birth, except two twin girls end up meeting later in life. I'll maybe post just the prologue when I think it's okay. Right now, it sucks worse than my pics do.

Here's the cover for it: 

Seems like a weird picture choice, but it'll make sense if I get the story to stop sucking. And don't judge my pen name! I hate my actual last name so I made up a whole new first + last name.

What else happened? Hm... oh, yeah, I learned to be okay with swimming backstroke. And we started swingdancing in PE and I don't know who my partner for the test will be. I'm just too awkward and klutzy for anyone to actually want to spin me in circles! 

I'm tired of talking about my life. Farewell... (that reminds me of Fi leaving in The Legend of Zelda. WHYYYYY ;_;)

Anyways, bye. YAY FOR ABRUPT ENDINGS :D

how i have been spending my winter break.

We (me, my sis, our parents, and our family friends) went hiking. And I ended up taking this awesomesauce picture which I might use on a book cover.

I had to edit the colors a bit because my camera sucks lollipops. 

Did I mention I got a haircut:

I'm making a creepy face.

And then, later, when I was in my quiet/depressing mode, I ended up writing this fiction story. I've just been reading about discrimination and stuff like that and honestly, it's really stupid.

I've often been accused of having lots of irrational fears. And I, surprisingly, say that's true. I'm especially afraid of just walking down the street with my family, something that normal kids do on a daily basis. But I'm not a normal kid. People take one look at me and start to judge. They don't even bother to get to know me better. It's all really stupid, this discrimination. Why make assumptions based on how someone's eyes look, or the color of her skin, or the slight accent she tries so hard to hide? They call me an outsider, an alien, when it should all be directed at them. 

And now, I'm doing just that: walking down the street with my family. My mom is forcing me to talk in my ''native language," even though people are going to stop and stare and point and laugh if I do. She's dressed weirdly, not in my choice of plain jeans and hoodie but in a long and brightly patterned "traditional" dress that she attempts to hide, for my sake, using a humongous black overcoat. My older sister is in a plaid skirt and pink blouse. People stare at her not because she looks weird, but because she can take that weirdness and turn it into something very pleasing to the eye. At least my dad has some idea of this strange thing called "normal," as he's just wearing a shirt and pants. Nothing weird or terrorist-y there. And my little brother... well, that's another story. The poor kid will never know what normal is.

I just hate it when people make jokes about loving their "insanity." I know what real insanity is. My brother hears voices in his head, always driving him crazy, and he doesn't seem too proud of it. Everyone makes random and inaccurate jokes about his condition without actually knowing what it's like for him, to be even more of an outsider than I am. His hands are pressed to his ears and he's in obvious pain. People stop to marvel at this strange child and how weird he looks and why he's like this. Kids at school think I have no sense of humor. Few have ever seen me laugh at a joke, no matter how hilarious it is. But to me, nothing's ever funny if anyone's getting hurt in any way, and this includes my brother. He may be weird but I love him all the same.

We sit down at a park bench, and my mom unloads the bags of food she's packed for our picnic. I see yellow-stained rice and other strange foods packed in foreign-looking containers. The park is crowded today, and lots of normal people are walking by and laughing. "Mommy, why is their skin like that?" a young and pale girl asks innocently. "Because they're not like us, honey. They don't belong here. You do," replies her mother. Great. A cruel racist in the making. I belong here, just as any other free citizen. But I don't walk up to the woman and punch her face in. Then the people around us will make even more racist jokes, as well as call me "unladylike" and compare me to so many other stereotypes. I don't want that. All I want is a normal and quiet existence.

"I'm not eating this," I say softly, jamming my fists in my hoodie pockets. "It's weird food." My mom glares at me, holding my head in place and shoving some of the awful food into my forced-open mouth. The normal people are walking slower now, as if to stop and stare at my family and how weird we outsiders act. "Stop force-feeding me," I grumble between breaths, right before running away from the strangers I call my family. Of course I'll come back to them later, when not as many people are staring. One outsider is less stare-worthy than five. 

I've started crying. Why? I have no clue. I sweep my hair over my eyes and eyebrows to cover both their odd appearance and my tears. My hood is still pulled over my head, to better conceal my dark skin. I look almost normal and I feel that way too... until my sister, in the slightly strange clothes that somehow look beautiful on her, touches my shoulder. 

"You're embarrassed, right?" she asks quietly, pulling me off to the side. "Try not to be. Remember how my dance teacher said to be proud of our heritage, not try to hide away from it? We're different. We're weird. So what? Learn to embrace it!" I quit dance class ages ago because of both my lack of coordination and the fact that it wasn't normal enough for me. Learning to live with being weird works for my sister, as beautiful as she is, but not for a dork like me. "I'm not buying it, sis," I whisper into her ear. "I'll hide like this until people stop teasing us for things that are so out of our control."

Once my teacher told us about racism in America. She said that because our President was of a minority, the whole thing had basically come to an end. But I can say it hasn't. Discrimination isn't just about sitting in the back of buses or not being allowed to immigrate into a new country and find your freedom. Discrimination is about the fear that people are always going to judge you at first sight, that you'll have to spend the rest of your life just wishing to be able to walk down the street without people staring. It's about waiting for normal. And it's still very real. 

making random things.

Okay. So my dad bet me that I can't design a better website for his company than he can. How about I send y'all the screenshots (click to make them bigger) and you decide for yourself?

This was his thing. (Ew, boring!)

And this was mine. Yayz.


And right after this, I got bored. So I made a cover for my Nanowrimo.

That's supposed to be Kat. :) And what even is the pen name.

 And I got even more bored, so I made stuff for random people.

Isn't it prettyfull?

This took me FOREVER. And the girl's arm still looks strange.

what i don't look for in a story/book

Confession: I do A LOT of these things. I mean, don't we all, my dear writer friends? Nobody's perfect. Seriously, what kind of messed-up parent would name their child Perfect? "Oh, Perfect, it's your turn to do the dishes! Perfect, don't bother your little sister! Go do piano practice, Perfect!" Okay, I'll stop my little rant.

So. Anyways. Wow, I'm back on topic already! The following is supposed to be a list of things that make a story or book worse, but every writer does them.

• Too much romance. Okay, I'll confess that I love shipping people in books! But if the story's overly focused on the two main characters being in love, especially if one of them's a really really hot guy/gal and the other is an awkward nerd, it just gets annoying. Relationships like that don't happen in real life, so why use them in a "realistic fiction" book?

• Characters who get away with everything. Example: Bobette's cheap eraser is stolen by Jimmy. In response to this, Bobette picks up poor Jimmy by the ears and knocks his teeth out. And NO ONE SAYS A THING, and they act like her beating up Jimmy was totally justified. There's a little imbalance there, right? 

• That canard about the "fourth dimension." Seriously, people, the fourth dimension is TIME. It's not some creepy alien world that you can fall into and walk around in and not know how to get out of. The next time you write sci-fi, write scientifically accurate sci-fi, all righty?

• Contradictions. Example: in one paragraph of a story, Piper leaves her red hat at home. Then, right after mentioning that, and without Piper going home, the author says, "Piper looked beautiful, her red hat matching her dress perfectly." Unless the hat can teleport, which probably should've been mentioned before, how did it get on her head?

I will write more in another post. Farewell, grasshoppers! *skips off into the sunset... oh wait, it's 9:25 PM!*

a random story i wrote in 5 minutes (violence warning)

I'm finally done with my Nanowrimo, and I'll make the doc public soon :D

Nanowrimo was a crazy adventure of feels (WHY JESSE WHY MUST YOU DIE ) and insanity (MUST GET 1000 WORDS BEFORE THE END OF FREE PERIOD/TA) but it's finally done. The main character, Kathica, turned into a bit of a jerk, but I didn't mind writing that part. She annoyed me from the beginning.

Sorry for not posting. I was busy being bored.

And I was so bored that I wrote this. Yay! What even is the ending.

"He never thought the day would come, the day that they finally hold him down," Kylin whispered to herself, holding back her tears as she stared longingly out the window. "He always assumed he was stronger, that he was invincible. That no one could take him down that easily. And I wish he hadn't been so wrong." She had her back to me, but the grief in her voice was obvious. She thought I was dead.

She turned her head and finally noticed me lying there on her rock-hard bed, vulnerable, my formerly strong right arm just a stump. "Ledger!" She attempted a grin, but her normally pliant features couldn't manage it. Even more tears streamed down her pale and freckled cheeks. "I thought they killed you. It's no use resisting such a great power, the one that rules this world. You're never going to take over, Ledge, so don't go around scaring your poor little sister."

"They're doing so many things wrong. If I was in charge of things around here, it would be a much better place. Why do they always put the idiots and addlepates at the top?” I probably sounded like a whiny brat, but I hated the way politics worked around here. It was probably because I was now a wanted criminal, charged with minorly injuring a government official. The guy had chopped off my arm, and all I did was trip him, but the stupid law-enforcers treated it like some sort of major crime. "Besides, without my arm, I might as well be dead already. Seriously, Ky, what can I do with only one arm?"

Ky wiped tear after glimmering tear off her face, and her attempt at a smile was much closer this time. It had probably been a while since she had last felt this joyous. "Well, you can run and walk, but you're probably not going to be able to fight as well anymore. Which is actually a good thing. But being the sympathetic sister I am, I'll try and help you, Ledge. You know I'm good with carving things. Should I make you a hook or something? It's the best I can do with the technology avaliable to me."

What would I do with a hook? A claw might be fine for grabbing things, but a hook?! Besides, Ky wasn't actually that good at woodworking, as her failed attempt at a bookshelf had collapsed on me and nearly given me a concussion. But that was when she was just a kid, trying new things. Those days were over.

"I'll manage somehow. I'll still fight, because you were wrong. I am stronger than them, even if they just see me as a petty revolutionary. I will take them down, with just this one arm!" I meant it. I was determined to crush them, to teach those idiots and addlepates about a government of the people and for the people. I was tired of not having a say in foreign policy, of being forced to pay outrageously high taxes (which led to me having to share a house with my younger sister), of not being able to do anything for anyone without people assuming that I was starting a revolution. But Kylin didn't seem to mind any of this.

"Come with me, Ky. That way I can set you up with a government post. Haven't you always wanted to be in charge of the world?" I regretted saying that to my go-with-the-flow sister, so I decided to add another argument. "Besides, if I die, you'll be there to perform my last rites." Glad that I was finally being humble, Ky agreed.

We had to walk all the way to the capital on foot, being dirt-poor as we were. I had a wooden sword in my hook, one that Ky reluctantly modified so it would fit. In my other hand I carried a shield made of the strongest scrap metal I could dig up. Ky strode behind me, genuinely afraid. 

"Ledger Blackthorne! Seize him! Dead or alive, but preferrably dead!" shouted a burly officer, hatred gleaming in his amber eyes. A bullet whizzed through the air, coming straight at my face. I dodged it easily. Kylin, in her small aqua-green dress, wasn't as quick. The perfectly round ball of gunpowder hit her in the face and she fell back onto the dirt. My sister, the one person I actually knew how to love, was gone forever.

"What is this insanity?" I yelled, bursting with anger and hatred and revolutionary fervor. "I just happen to trip an official and you charge me for it, but you kill my sister and go on with your lives?! This is why we need a change, you corrupted pigs!" Another bullet whizzed through the air, this time from further away. I dodged it again. A crowd was beginning to assemble, cheering me on out of sympathy for my loss. Finally, people agreed with me. And they also were armed.

My crowd of supporters began to pull out guns and bows and arrows and swords, killing off all but one of the officials. And that one official shot a bullet which went straight through my heart. I was so close to ruling the world, but I died because of my foolishness, my false sense of supremacy, my pride. And here I am, dear listener, telling you this story from the realm of ghosts.

sorry!

I've been obsessively writing.
So obsessively that I haven't been able to post chapters 4 through 15 on here.
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What? You want to read more? 

Aww, you're nice! *hugs*

So here's the link to my amazing novel on Google Docs. Because I'm a lazybutt. :D

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YPS3NACOdHxUQ8oTPJirSP3lKDFjGSmy4_xEUtGRxOo/edit

it takes forever to load though.

nanowrimo chapter 3!

FINALLY XD

“I forgot to tell you, I sent someone out to interrogate the blonde. She didn’t give us anything useful.”

“Sir, didn’t she say that bit about our subject living in the past?”

“Eh… I guess… We all know that. Even her classmates do.”

“And didn’t she think about comparing her own mother to our subject?, sir?”

“Excellent job. You tapped into her thoughts. Maybe you’ll amount to something someday.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You want to be really useful? Try and interrupt our subject while she’s practicing.”

After an online conversation with runnergirl69, or Evangeline, Kathica sealed herself in her soundproof section of her family compartment. A small black case rested against a bland white wall, providing striking contrast. She picked it up, along with the small paperback book that rested behind it.

Kathica undid the case’s metal padlocks and took out what looked like an intricately carved piece of wood with strings running through it. A violin, as it was referred to in the book she’d found about how to play it. Before she’d done her soundproofing project, she found the violin and book resting in a corner of her room, and was intrigued by them. Luckily, her parents were out, so they didn’t notice the soft screeching noise she made, but she didn’t want anyone else to hear it. Least of all an Authority.

Those screeching noises had, over time, been replaced with something different, something beautiful. The sounds leaped and swerved around the room, flowing gracefully from one note to the next. Kathica’s tanned fingers were a blur, dancing on those thin strings. She controlled the bow and listened as the melody slid from one note to the next. Making these sounds came naturally to her. This was all she was good for, other than knocking out older kids and making good grades in math.

Music, the book called it. Kathica liked the sound of the word. It just felt… nice, comforting. Like she did when she played it. The piece she was working on had mostly high notes, so she took it down an octave. She loved the rich, deep sounds of the lower part of the violin’s range, and preferred them over the tinny higher reaches.

Kathica kept playing and playing and wishing more than ever that she could time-travel back to the past, where her passion wouldn’t be considered a frivolity. She could imagine it: a music-player weaving melodies from air, and other people gathered around, sitting still and listening and loving it. If everyone just took time off from their fighting and seriousness and did something “frivolous” every now and then, she thought, this war-torn world would be a better place. Of course, no one listened to insignificant children like her. For now, these fantasies would have to remain in her head.

Her computer beeped again, but it wasn’t because of runnergirl69 this time. Kathica had received a message, but it was from Address Unknown. She ended her piece with a long fluttering trill, then set her violin and bow down and looked at the screen.

“Report to your compartment’s door at once,” the message said. Knowing better than to trust complete strangers, Kathica ignored the message and kept sawing away at her violin. She was on top of the world. Nothing could stop her now, except maybe being taken away by the Authorities.

Another message arrived for her. “Kathica Finley Perlman, I mean it. Go outside. Now. Your future awaits you.” Finley. That awful word. No one, not even Evangeline, knew her middle name. She hated it so much that she begged her parents not to tell anyone about it. Surprisingly, they agreed.

She packed up her violin and book, setting them in the closet where her clean Uniforms were, and walked out her compartment’s front door. Her parents weren’t home that day, as they were always building some new contraption for the soldiers. Kathica didn’t mind being so distant from her parents, as she was quite independent.

The husky, broad-shouldered silhouette of an Authority blocked her door. Great. They had discovered her “frivolous” hobby. This was the end of her normal, peaceful existence. Her days were most certainly numbered.

“Kathica Perlman. At last, we have proof that your so-called passion is the highest frivolity that exists. You probably know what’s coming next, don’t you?” She did. She knew too well. She was being sent to military training camp, and then on a suicide mission. Even though she could knock out DeSilva and Anderson with one sweep of her fist, she couldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.

“Yeah. Basically, I’m gonna die.” Kathica said those words with bored indifference. “But I have one last wish: to take my violin and book with me. And I want to be able to practice whenever I have time. Oh, and can I message my best friend real quick? In private?” To her surprise, the Authority agreed.

Kathica logged on to her computer and sent Evangeline a farewell message. “I’m leaving today. I don’t know why, but the Authorities are sending me off to training camp. If anyone at school asks about me, say that my parents got relocated. I know you hate lying, Evangeline, but do it just this once. For me.” She knew that she was lying too, but she didn’t mind. Kathica was the best liar she’d met. Still, she cried, beside herself with tears. She’d never cried before.

Evangeline’s reply was quick: “im so sorry kat! :( good luck staying alive!” The message seemed light and insincere, but Kathica knew it wasn’t. She could feel her friend’s panic, could imagine Evangeline’s sorrow at her only companion being gone. Evangeline just wasn’t very good at putting her thoughts into words.

Kathica packed up her computer and a clean Uniform. “You won’t be needing those clothes,” the Authority said. “Training camp has it’s own Uniform. You’ll probably like it better than this one.” She wasn’t so sure about that. If it was a Uniform, it was bound to be awful.

In a failed attempt to cheer herself up, she imagined training camp as a place with green polka-dotted walls and absurdly high ceilings and lots of music and frivolities. It wasn’t actually that funny. In a situation as dire as hers, nothing was funny.