Sam (2015-10-29 15:55:04)

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Chapter One
Summary: We meet several characters, we get an introduction to our stars. Approximately 1300 words.
Tell me what you think! It was a boring morning so I wrote this in about thirty minutes. It helps me get my creative urges out. I really don't have many places to go let people read it, considering it's just a character development exercise. I'd enjoy getting some reviews. It's written in the first person, so expect some issues with grammar. She's telling a story, it's not a scientific informational text. (:
“I’m not playing this game,” spoke the deep voice coming from the driver’s seat. I could see the back of his head and I could imagine the scowl on his face, however I did not risk poking my head into the passenger seat to confirm my hypothesis. This entire drive had been tense, and if it wasn’t for the radio and Cameron’s insistence on playing games that most of us had grown out of when we hit education-age we would have been at each other’s throats. I cared very little for such games, but our driver seemed to care even less. He was around a decade older than the six of us, probably in his early thirties. He had the same scars we did, the ones we all had, and was willing to drive around a group of young political revolutionaries despite how annoying we likely were.
It wasn’t our choice to become revolutionaries. We were simply outcasts that became an icon for a revolution. It all started with a video that was supposed to be a joke. When it blasted through the web and people began to recognize us, we didn’t really know what to do. Our lives were pretty much over, and the bells of war seemed to sound. And what were we? We symbolized the youth of our nation, the unwrinkled faces and bright minds who were done with how we were treated by society. We came from all walks of life, and all of the different subcultures fostered by our formerly prosperous nation, and we were able to set aside our differences to reach a common goal. However, this was all phony revolutionary nonsense, it was propaganda. Propaganda just like what we were supposed to be fighting against.
I would do anything to go back to being your average college student, even if I was changing the world unwillingly. And who am I, you may ask, reader? I’m Sophia Kansas. I’m twenty-two years old, and I was raised in Oklahoma. Up until the best two years I lived an average life full of teenage romances and fights with my parents. I was just like you, reader. However, my adventure began when I was nearing my twentieth birthday. My friends had planned a party for me, and despite the fact it was meant to be a surprise, the fact I heard other people talk about what was meant to be a study date between me and my boyfriend while I was in a lecture made it unmistakable. I’ve always been hard to surprise, and my boyfriend was the type who was a bit too eccentric. He’d use any opportunity he was given to throw a party, especially for his “gorgeous girlfriend” Sophia. I was hoping he’d tone down his hype for it. Twenty isn’t a special birthday, and all I gave him for his was a gift-card and a gift that has been around since the dawn of meiosis.
I was slowly developing some thin threads of excitement. I went to parties, like any other college student, and I socialized, but I was more of the close-knit type. If my boyfriend knew anything it would be that I would prefer to keep it small. However, I didn’t really know those two girls who were talking about it, so my thin layer of excitement could soon be replaced by an ocean of concern. I sighed, staring at my notes.
“You have neat handwriting,” I hear, from a female voice behind me. I turned my head to confront a skinny blonde with a big nose and green eyes. She seemed genuine, and I wasn’t about to reject her.
“Thanks,” I said, as politely as possible.
The blonde smiled. “Did you enjoy the lecture? Mister Smith is goddamn hot,”
I nodded.
Her face continued to brighten. “I hear he’s actually one of the rebels,”
This caught my attention. The rebels were a political group against the invasion of privacy. It didn’t really affect my life, and I stopped being concerned about it when I hit eighteen and most of the things I was doing that were illegal became legal. However, I was no politics student, but I saw on the news how the government branded them terrorists. It was unreasonable. They were fighting for a good cause, against police corruption, for our rights to private property and for our rights to free speech. Isn’t that what originally made this nation great? I must’ve looked so strange to the blonde, lost in my own thoughts.
“I think it makes him hotter,” she responded, her thin lips forming a half-smile. Didn’t this girl have someone else to fangirl with? I sighed. One thing about Mister Smith I should probably mention… He’s the driver. And the blonde, whose name I’d soon learn is Danna, is sitting next to me in the back of a large van on a drive to a rally. But we’ll explain that another time. Reader, you really need the background to understand what I’m talking about, so do not fret.
I nod. “Women have loved the underdog for millennia,”
“Underdog? No, I think it’s the attraction to something that goes against the wills of society.” She responded. There was a glint of intelligence in her green eyes I hadn’t noticed before. She would make a valuable ally, I thought.
“By the way, I’m going to your birthday party,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “So Tyler really is inviting everyone he can.”
“Pretty much. Considering it’s his apartment I'm pretty glad. I was told there’ll be booze,” she put her fists under her chin, leaning over her chair with a wide grin.
“I’m not even legal, but whatever floats his boat. I guess I’ll see you at the party,” I said.
“I’m Danna,” she responded, holding out her hand.
I grabbed it tightly, and shook it with force. My father always told me that handshakes are a key to a person’s heart. However, she was far more fierce than I imagined, her grip seemingly tighter than my own.
“I think you already know my name,”
“I know Tyler. So of course I know you’re Sophia.”
“Tyler knows everyone,” I said, lowering my eyebrows and sighing.
“He does. You got yourself a keeper. If you guys break up, tell him to text me.” She winks, flipping her hair and turning her head. I catch a glimpse of her profile, noticing her large nose once again, before all I see is long blonde hair and a slim body rising out of its chair.
I swiftly collected my belongings and got up, using my hand to balance me. Books are so heavy, I think. I remember when I was a child they said that technology would become more incorporated into our everyday environment. How I wish that was true. I still had to carry textbooks and march from one room to the other. I didn’t even own a cellphone. I had a tablet, of course, an older model that was released a half a decade ago, which I used to take notes. I wasn’t technology centric like most of my peers. It simply didn’t interest me.
I walked out of the lecture hall and entered the real hallway, gripping my books to my chest.
That entire conversation was a mistake, I realize now, and that the conversation I had with Danna was how it begun.
[By the way, Sophia uses her tablet to write. She doesn't type on it. She has a stylus. She says it keeps her in the game.]
Chapter Two: Alright, some character development. No flashbacks. Some new characters. All in the moment. Next part will be longer, and have flashbacks, but I feel like this was important to write and I needed to get some dialogue out. Enjoy!
Summary: We meet some more characters. Mostly fluff. No flashbacks.
"Pick me up and drop me into my grave," said Danna, sighing loudly. Her normally luscious blonde hair was sticky and greasy, and stuck to her forehead. My own hair wasn't much different, however it was short and cropped right above my ears and grew out in thin, loose curls. It was small details like this that dominate my mind. "Activists," I remember. Prepare yourself for the rally.
"I am significantly more excited to bathe than I am about presenting ourselves to the entire country," said Danna.
"It's not like they see our faces, besides our mouths. They don't even see Soph's eyes," said Rodney, his dark brown eyes full of defiance. Rodney never lets himself get involved in our cynical rambling. He is short and half-Hispanic, half Indian (as we all learned when he declared himself group cook), and Rodney isn't his real name. He has a sharp nose and smooth black hair, full and wavy. His favorite dish was curry, however he used strange South American spices that completely changed the dish. His mother and father both worked professionally in a fancy kitchen in NYC. He's proud of both sides of his heritage, and it shows in his cooking.
"Can you all just shut up. I've listened to so much rambling this entire trip," said our driver, "Mister Smith," He isn't exactly a pleasant man.
"Common, Chase. Are we really going to argue like that?" Said Danna flirtatiously, trying to flip her hair into place.
"We're getting close. Just let me have my quiet." He said, in a milder, sweeter tone.
Cameron moaned. Cameron is one of those silly, charismatic people you can't really stand however appreciate because he reduces the tension in the room. He had a very dark complexion, a large nose, and full lips. His hair, however, grew slightly less coursely than other people from his ethnic background. He says it's because his mother was actually 1/8th Middle Eastern, however no one really believes him.
"How far are we, sir?" Said Danna affectionately. She climbed over me and put her fingers on the back of Smith's neck, playing with his hair.
"Forty minutes," he replies, and I can see his eyebrows raise in his reflection on the windshield.
"Ugh, and then I'm not going to see you for an entire week,"
"Some people would envy you for that,
"They just don't know how sweet and caring you are."
"Sometimes it amazes me how you pretend to be so dull.
Danna laughed.
"You wouldn't have it any other way, Chase."
We're driving in silence, until we come to a sudden stop. We were in a small Suburban town, on the outskirts of a nearby city that was noticeable in the distance.
A woman ran out. She was petite, with light brown hair and wide hips, and she wore an apron. The next thing I noticed was her large, roman nose.
"Danna, thank god, it's you," she screamed. Cameron pushed the door open fiercely and Danna pushed him out of the way, jumping into the woman's arms.
"You wouldn't believe everything that's happened, Danna," said the woman.
"Oh, I've had quite the ride, mother." Her voice was high pitched, turning into a giggle.
"I'm not sure if I should ask any questions or nah," said Kim, the only other girl in our little clan of Rebels. She was usually quiet, however when she did speak it was deep and didn't fit her round face and small eyes.
"Cut the reunion," Said Smith, opening the car door and then slamming it.
"You must be Chase," said Danna's mother.
Danna nods, grinning.
"I have to get out of here," said Smith.
Danna quickly grabbed him.
"Am I still beautiful even when my hair is greasy?" The i's in her sentence seem to start with h, her voice a loud, seductive whisper.
"You would be beautiful no matter what," says Smith, looking down at his boots.
Danna brings her lips to his, wrapping her arms around him.
"I love you, and don't ever forget it. Even if I don't comeback," said Danna.
"I love you, Danna. If you're not back, I don't think the entire city will survive," he whispers audibly.
"I don't doubt it, she responds.
I smile.
Chapter Three
Alright. A whole lot of fluff, but stay with me, we’re getting to some actual plot here! We learn more about Sophie and her life and who she is, and we get an introduction to activism! It’s a lot longer, as I said. Enjoy, though. (:
Summary: We go to Sophie’s birthday party.
Danna’s mother is a lovely woman. She seems sweet, and kind, and true to her faith. Danna’s father is a short, thin man who cannot be more than two inches taller than his petite wife. He has dark curls, similar to my own, however thicker, and his eyes are the same sharp green as his daughter’s. Neither of Danna’s parents share her hair color, however I choose not to ask. Her mother may dye her hair, however why she would, I do not know. After two years of being a close companion to Danna, it was unusual to finally meet her parents.
I suppose I should return to my story, reader. So, we are now at my twentieth birthday party, planned by my overly extroverted boyfriend Tyler. Tyler, a sweet young man, two years my elder and tall with a broad jaw and mousy brown hair. Our relationship was simple, and did not require much effort on my part. He was out of my league, in every way possible, where my teeth were crooked and yellowed from years of disregarding hygiene, his were white and straight. He had long eyelashes, where mine were thin and short. He complimented me too much, and always included me in his social circle. I can’t say I truly loved him, because there was something he was lacking. Perhaps it was his lack of life experience, which I, a spoiled just-out-of-her-teenage-years prized dearly. He wasn’t possessive over me, he never became jealous and seemed to encourage me to flirt and be more social.
Sometimes I feel like I was an experiment to him. “Can I make this introverted, yet loud, unprofessional homeless looking childish soul act like she actually knows proper social graces, and pretend that she doesn’t leave her clothes on the floor of my bedroom and read erotic novels when she’s supposed to be studying,”
Whether or not I was, I’ll never know. He did often remind me to smile when I meet new people, or to say thank you and you’re welcome. Like a catholic school teacher although instead of beating me with a ruler he lightly tapped my shoulder and whispered to me. I didn’t really deserve him, however, he came with his own baggage. His parents were divorced, and he was terrified of commitment. He had a history of partying and at one point had gotten arrested and put onto probation when he was seventeen. He said it was all behind him, however I doubt it now.
Less people than I thought would be there were there. The music was on a low volume (I could hardly hear it from outside the door), and it seemed to be quiet. Tyler heard me having trouble opening the door (the key kept on getting jammed) and rushed to the door to open it. He grabbed me by my hips and kissed me.
“Hello, birthday girl,” he says, blinking rapidly, his warm brown eyes full of excitement.
“Flattering. This caters more to me than I thought it would,” I grinned, nuzzling my face into his neck.
“I’m offended,” he whispered, raising his eyebrows but continuing to wear his half-smile.
“Of course you are,” I said loudly, moving one of my hands to his hips.
“I hear you met Danna,”
“Yes. I didn’t know you were close to her.”
“I’m not. We met when we were freshmen, haven’t really spoke much since,” he said with a wide grin.
“Good. She’s prettier than me.” I say swiftly, causing him to break out into laughter.
“Let’s get to the party. Our lovely guests would love to see our lovely birthday girl,”
“I doubt it’s me they’re here to see. It’s you and whatever alcoholic beverages you chose to lay out. You know half of these people are probably not even twenty-one.”
“Who cares?” he says. “Not everyone is as reserved as you, Soph,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around mine and guiding me to the living room.
His apartment was large, contrary to my dorm. His father paid for it, and it caused much tension in his family that his father would waste so much money on an apartment for his son. Not that it wasn’t tense already. The room was dimly lit, with people dressed in modest-professional clothing, and no one seems to have passed out. I grin. “Fancy,” I say, bringing my fingers to my lips.
“Very/[i],” he responds. I hadn’t noticed it before, but we were both dressed casually unlike our guests.
“[i]Here’s the guest of honor, my friends!” said Tyler, pushing me in front of him.
A young African American man I had met on several occasions (you can guess who that is, reader) grinned at me.
“Ah, should we host a toast! Or, are you not that type! To be twenty, one year before you can legally enjoy a drink. Such a boring year, twenty. However, the best thing about being twenty is counting down until you’re twenty-one!” the man yelled, throwing his drink in the air and managing to catch it without spilling the glass.
“I’m not that excited for alcohol,” I snorted.
Cameron laughed.
“Just as stubborn as you were when I met you, Sophie,” he states.
We had hardly met. Just small confrontations. He was friends with Tyler, and he was just as loud and bold every time we met.
“I don’t know how you managed to gather how stubborn I was from the several times I spoke to you because you accompanied Tyler somewhere,” I said, however I said it with a polite tone, and winked.
Tyler was rubbing off on me. His lessons were becoming successful.
“Yo, Soph, I saw that wink. I mean you’re pretty and all but I don’t play that way,” he said, grinning with shiny teeth.
“We all can tell,” I said, swaying my hips.
“Burn,” said some random girl by the punch bowl, the girl next to her, a small Asian, nodding.
“Your girlfriends a sweetheart, Ty,” said the man, who I may as well disclose is Cameron, if you couldn’t tell that. It was sarcastic, but playful, and I raised my eyebrows and pretended to be offended.
“I’m the one who sleeps in his bed,” I said, strutting towards Cameron.
“Do you think it wouldn’t be me if he didn’t prefer tits?” he responds.
Everyone in the room breaks out into laughter, Tyler was practically rolling on the floor.
“You wouldn’t be my type, Cam,” he stated.
“Then who would?”
“Let’s not discuss that. I believe we all prefer Tyler heterosexual,” Said the girl I had met earlier, Danna. I hadn’t noticed her before, however I wasn’t looking. She was wearing a dark green dress that showed off just how small her waist was.
“Back off,” I said and then laughed.
“Remember what I told you earlier, Sophie,” said Danna, winking.
“Not a chance,” I responded.
“That’s what you think now,” she responded.
“Okay.” I said sarcastically, turning my back away from her and Cameron.
“By the way, Sophie,” said Danna loudly.
I turned my head so I wasn’t looking directly at her.
“We need to talk, in private. And no, it’s not about how much I want to screw Tyler,” she said. Her tone was serious, and I turned my body so I could see her directly.
“Oh, Don, don’t darken the mood,” said some other boy I hadn’t seen before.
“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Said Danna.
I wondered what they were talking about. I decided to put it out of my mind, I’d ask her later.
The rest of the people at the party were people I knew. They were all Tyler’s friends, not mine. However, I spent time with them regularly. Besides Tyler I didn’t really have any friends. I had a best friend, Jaime, back home, who was busy with her own life, so we spoke on the phone for a couple of hours twice a week and told each other everything. Most of our old gang in Oklahoma had gone off into their own lives when we started college. It was for the best, I believe. I wouldn’t want them involved in my life, now, and back then it wouldn’t have been in their best interest either. I’m not the best friend, and I recognize that. But, back to the party. Some of Tyler’s friends brought silly gifts, all based on how Tyler told them I had an interest in oldschool knick-knacks.
One of his closer friends, Isabel, gave me a “Cup-and-ball.” If the name wasn’t obvious enough, it’s a game where you try to get a ball into a cup without placing it in without your hands. Much of my childhood was dictated by playing little games like this while sitting underneath a swingset. I, too this day, have not been very successful with “Cup-and-ball.” I still have the gift she gave me, although currently it’s somewhere in the back of Smith’s car. It came in useful when you were taking long, boring drives across the country because being an activist for personal freedoms isn’t exactly glamorous all of the time.
“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” I exclaimed, causing Tyler and Isabel to laugh like it was the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. I was beginning to develop a theory that Tyler paid his friends to pretend I was comedian-material. It wouldn’t be unlikely. However now I’ve began to think I’m humorous like a Greek tragedy. Everyone laughs because it’s full of irony. Especially now.
Isabel and I exchanged small-talk about the weather while watching Tyler try to get the ball into the cup. His failure only got more humorous.
“Finally, something you’re not good at,” I said, cutting off my conversation with Isabel.
“Don’t be so bitter,” said Isabel, tapping my shoulder.
“Hey, have you tried living with him on the weekends?” I laughed.
She nods, and Tyler glares at me.
I apparently forgot something very important.
I sigh, and try to pull off a weak smile. I found myself walking to the bathroom, and then locking the door. I stared at the mirror, feeling like I was going to pull out my hair. It must have been fifteen minutes, before I heard a knock on the door. I expected it to be Tyler, however it wasn’t.
Instead I heard a female voice.
Danna.
“I know you’re only in there because you probably lost some self-respect. Let me in, I’ve been looking to speak to you in private since the party began,”
“What?” I respond, loudly.
“Nothing happened. Tyler and Izzy laughed it off. Let me in. It’s completely unrelated, I swear.”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just let me in.”
I unlock the door, opening it slowly to see an agitated Danna, her hair out of place and her flirtatious grin absent.
“What is it, Danna? You’ve been looking at me strangely since the party began,”
“You support the rebels, don’t you?”
That was honestly the last thing I expected her to ask. A question about my political stance? Isn’t that like asking someone how much money they make?
“I support their cause, however I don’t support their methods.”
She nods, her long fingers tracing over her sides.
“I believe we share the same cause. You are passionate about your beliefs. You may not know it yet, but I believe you think the same way I do.”
“What?”
“The movement needs new leaders. They need young, healthy people who came from average backgrounds. They need a new icon, to warm up to the youth. They need to stop throwing riots and burning flags. They need to act like the government, and play their cards correctly. It’s all about power-play.” She says, looking in the other direction.
“Danna, I honestly don’t know what this is about.”
“Sophie. My brother was killed by police officers. He was one of the people trying to calm the riot.”
My jaw drops. I saw that on the news. Seven people were killed, two of which were killed by mistake, and although were part of the group, were trying to stop the useless violence. They had showed their faces, branding them terrorists.. One of which, I remembered, may have looked similar to Danna.
“Joseph Heisenberg,” I say, looking at my shoes.
She grabs me by the shoulders.
“You know he did not deserve what became of him. You are a smart girl, Soph. Is death a reasonable response to a person who wanted peace?”
“Why are you telling me this, Danna?”
“I want you to join the movement. They need people like you, people like us. We represent the American public, you and I. We ARE the American youth.”
“I’m twenty years old, Danna. I can’t get involved in a political movem..”
She put her hand over my mouth.
“Yes you can.”
“Danna, I barely know you. I barely know anything about your cause. Is this a joke?”
“Soph. I have been watching you. Ever since I saw you with Tyler. You were on political forums on that old tablet of yours.”
“You’re very observant,” I reply in a meek tone of voice.
“Yes. I am. I know you’re interested in politics. You’re scared to get involved. I’ll give you time to think about it. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, and go back to the party.”
The rest of the party goes smoothly. I receive more knick-knacks. I would spend the night at Tyler’s. However all I could think about was what Danna told me.

This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2015-11-03 21:24:01

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AntiChrist (2015-10-29 23:13:59)

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I'm really curious how this is going to play out. Please, for the love of god, continue this.

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Sam (2015-10-30 01:54:53)

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I'm not sure where I want to bring it. If it should get violent or if they should just be activists. Any ideas?

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Destroiya (2015-10-30 02:19:22)

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I'm with AC. Besides you're the author. Make the ultimate choice! Or you can make two stories of the same thing. One violent and the other activists.

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little5 (2015-10-31 14:01:01)

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^

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AntiChrist (2015-11-01 20:29:55)

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I'd recommend developing the characters by making them just be activists at first, then make the violent things begin. Maybe have them have to escape being killed by opposing radical groups. Just a suggestion.

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Sam (2015-11-03 21:24:58)

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It's been updated again! We're finally getting somewhere. It's going to be a long one, if I choose not to discontinue it. ENJOY!

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Destroiya (2015-11-23 13:58:26)

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^

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PumpedAA12 (2016-09-13 08:18:28)

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You wrote this ALL Just in 30 minutes! Props to you Sam!

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