Ruby's story (also with no name)

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Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Wed May 30, 2007 8:42 am

This is my story, it's not as good as GN's but it is the best I can do, do tell me what you think!

Many of us consider life guaranteed, a right, but there are people who to them, life is a privilege. There are many ways a horrific thing like this can happen, poverty, disease, war. This is the story of a girl who has to survive all pain and suffering the human mind could comprehend. Her name is Margaret, and that is the only thing she considers hers.

Her story starts in a town, in a place, in a country we have never heard of. She knows its name, she must, she has lived there all her life. She is seen on the streets but nobody acknowledges her existence, they have their own problems, too many to understand or even notice those of a little girl. So, she lives unnoticed to the rest of her world.

Margaret wakes up, the same dusty room in the same dusty house she has always known. She sleeps on a pile of rags on top of a various number of things that she considers soft. She looks around, but there is no food, she must scavenge. She lives in an abandoned house somewhere deep in the slums of her city. She loves the city although it has given her nothing but poor food and a constant need to be on guard for other poor fellows in the same position as her, alone, scared, hungry. She stands up, careful of the low rafters above her, they consist of rotting wood caked in sand, much like the rest of the house. Her room (or what she has named her room although it is just a platform slightly above the one room below) is her own space, she hoards her own items in there, between the sawdust and general muskiness. Her items are a doll she has had her entire life, a piece of wood that has her name carved in it (in case she forgets) and a small locket with a worn, barely visible picture of a person. That is the only furniture she has in her home, she likes to think of it as furniture since the rest of the house is empty aoart from years of dust hiding in corners she can’t even see. She doesn’t know who built the house, she thinks her parents built it just for her before they left her. Her parents threw her away, she loves them although she has never met them. She knows that there must have good reason for why they left her here, to fend for herself. Margaret crawls over to the ladder that leads down to the lower floor, she never uses the ladder, she just hops down every morning to a spot she has designated, her praying corner. She thanks all of her Gods for life and for the food she is going to try and get. She says prayers to Ramsha, God of life, Ahsmar, God of death and Felona, God of love. There is no god of war in her religion, war is considered unholy yet there are massacres all the times based on ethnic cleansing, religious rights and other reasons Margaret doesn’t even want to think about. That is why she sleeps up on the platform, safety. After her prayers she steps out onto the busy street, carts zoom by and vendors are trying to sell their items. She squints in the bright sun, she thinks it never stops shining, she thinks it shines down on her when she is sad and disappears in the night because it needs to help others. She wanders around, looking for items that people may have dropped, nothing. She visits some vendors but she has no Sahr, the currency of her land. She visits a vendor selling mirrors, Margaret looks at herself, she has black hair and deep green eyes, her skin in caked with dirt, so that you can’t see her skin below, this saddens her, she believes that if she gets the mud off, she will shine like an angel and her life will be better, for now, she is Margaret, poor girl, Margaret. She looks up the cobblestone streets lined with mud cakes houses like hers, she sees others looking for food too, the same as her, fighting to survive the things we take for granted. She vows that once she gets out of here, she will come back and let them live in her big house and they will be happy, truly happy. She smiles while thinking about this and continues with her daily seach.

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Gaboo? on Wed May 30, 2007 9:20 am

Oof. Haven't read it yet (too tired z.z), but that block of text is.. pretty daunting.

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Wed May 30, 2007 9:24 am

Sorry, I'm not even done the first chapter yet, that is only the fist little bit of it.

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Golden_nightingale on Thu May 31, 2007 12:06 am

Hm, I'd say.. add a paragraph or two Very Happy

Makes it easier to read it ;p

But it seems good so far ^^
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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Thu May 31, 2007 5:53 am

What do you mean add a paragraph? This is the full Chapter 1...hehehe

Many of us consider life guaranteed, a right, but there are people who to them, life is a privilege. There are many ways a horrific thing like this can happen, poverty, disease, war. This is the story of a girl who has to survive all pain and suffering the human mind could comprehend. Her name is Margaret, and that is the only thing she considers hers.

Her story starts in a town, in a place, in a country we have never heard of. She knows its name, she must, she has lived there all her life. She is seen on the streets but nobody acknowledges her existence, they have their own problems, too many to understand or even notice those of a little girl. So, she lives unnoticed to the rest of her world.

Margaret wakes up, the same dusty room in the same dusty house she has always known. She sleeps on a pile of rags on top of a various number of things that she considers soft. She looks around, but there is no food, she must scavenge. She lives in an abandoned house somewhere deep in the slums of her city. She loves the city although it has given her nothing but poor food and a constant need to be on guard for other poor fellows in the same position as her, alone, scared, hungry. She stands up, careful of the low rafters above her, they consist of rotting wood caked in sand, much like the rest of the house. Her room (or what she has named her room although it is just a platform slightly above the one room below) is her own space, she hoards her own items in there, between the sawdust and general muskiness. Her items are a doll she has had her entire life, a piece of wood that has her name carved in it (in case she forgets) and a small locket with a worn, barely visible picture of a person. That is the only furniture she has in her home, she likes to think of it as furniture since the rest of the house is empty apart from years of dust hiding in corners she can’t even see. She doesn’t know who built the house, she thinks her parents built it just for her before they left her. Her parents threw her away, she loves them although she has never met them. She knows that there must have good reason for why they left her here, to fend for herself. Margaret crawls over to the ladder that leads down to the lower floor, she never uses the ladder, she just hops down every morning to a spot she has designated, her praying corner. She thanks all of her Gods for life and for the food she is going to try and get. She says prayers to Ramsha, God of life, Ahsmar, God of death and Felona, God of love. There is no god of war in her religion, war is considered unholy yet there are massacres all the time based on ethnic cleansing, religious rights and other reasons Margaret doesn’t even want to think about. That is why she sleeps up on the platform, safety. After her prayers she steps out onto the busy street, carts zoom by and vendors are trying to sell their items. She squints in the bright sun, she thinks it never stops shining, she thinks it shines down on her when she is sad and disappears in the night because it needs to help others. She wanders around, looking for items that people may have dropped, nothing. She visits some vendors but she has no Sahr, the currency of her land. She visits a vendor selling mirrors, Margaret looks at herself, she has black hair and deep green eyes, her skin in caked with dirt, so that you can’t see her skin below, this saddens her, she believes that if she gets the mud off, she will shine like an angel and her life will be better, for now, she is Margaret, poor girl, Margaret. She looks up the cobblestone streets lined with mud cakes houses like hers, she sees others looking for food too, the same as her, fighting to survive in a world we take for granted. She vows that once she gets out of here, she will come back and let them live in her big house and they will be happy, truly happy. She smiles while thinking about this and continues with her daily search.

After successfully finding an apple and a couple pieces of bread she begins to return home for her dinner, a privilege for her. When she returns home, she finds the door kicked open. She wonders if she has a visitor, she has always hoped for a friend, someone she could talk to and keep her company when she is sad, it might give the sun less work. But what she finds is the opposite, She looks on the ground and sees large boot prints where some of the dust used to be, she wonders who could have such big feet. When she looks up, she is horrified by the sight, her rag bed in dragged off of her wooden platform. She runs to it and scrambles up the ladder, she looks around and sees a disaster, her worst nightmare. All of her most precious items are gone, her dolly is gone, her name is gone and her locket is gone. She sits in the mess and cries, her life is gone, it left with her items. She is desperate for the sun but cannot pull herself to leave her home. Through her tears, she sees a faint sparkle below her. Margaret hops down the ladder as quickly as her legs can Lying on top of the dust under her little platform is her locket, she runs to it and clutches it close to her heart. A part of her life has been returned. She cries herself to sleep that night.

She wakes up the next morning, the sun is streaming through one of the cracks in the mud house. She sits up happily like every morning until she remembers two of her most beloved things in life are gone, she wonders why anyone would want her name and a doll. Did someone have the same name as her and didn’t want to forget it. She scrapes off dried tears from her eyes and reluctantly hops off of her platform. She only prays to the God of love that day.

She wanders out into the sunny cobblestone streets, the sun shone down on her face, she has never wanted the sun’s magic more the now. Margaret is wearing the locket today, her home is no longer a safe haven for her now. She looks at the vendor’s stalls as usual but skips the mirror vendor, what good is looking upon her tatty clothes and mud caked face if she has no name, and why should she exist if her companion is gone. As she sadly travels down the streets she thinks about this.

A loud bang and screams fill the air, clouding her thoughts. She ducks as something flies past her head. She knows what it is, she has seen it end lives, she has always wondered why they make them, they end more lives that they help. A sound like ripping cloth comes from right next to her, bottles break and the mirrors shatter. She dives to the ground, she feels it may be safer down there than up where she was. A man is lying beside her, she wonders whether he feels safer down here too. She asks him but he doesn’t answer. Maybe he is too scared to speak, she was the first time that happened. She nudges him lightly to see if he will respond. He rolls over and his open eyes are stare blankly at her. She gasps, the whizzing killers must have gotten him. She feels sad for him because he did not do anything. Margaret vows that after she saves the children, she will get rid of whizzing killers. She puts his hands on his chest and starts trying to crawl away. More pots shatter and more people fall over as whizzing killers get them. She prays to Ramsha that he will spare her, she apologizes to him for not praying to him that morning. She explains that her doll and name were stolen from her and she was sad. After her prayer, she looks up to see a ball land near the house a few doors down from her. She likes the ball, it is green but the men with the masks threw it, she wonders why they would be throwing balls if they were firing whizzing killers at people. The ball transforms into fire and the house and others fall apart, she checks her house but it is still standing. She is happy about this but feels sad for the people in the house, she knows that fire is hot and a lot of it must be really hot. She hopes they are okay. Something falls beside her, it is a hand. She holds in a scream, she always thought that hands came with a body, she checks her hands to make sure they were still there, they were. She picks up the hand, she thinks someone might want it back, she knows how sad she was when her name and doll were stolen. The noises that the whizzers make have stopped but she still hears moaning from everywhere. She likes many sounds, like the sound of birds and the music she hears on the streets but she does not like this sound. It makes her feel bad for the people making that noise. She makes a noise like that when she falls over and she knows that hurts. She keeps looking through people to see if any are missing any hands. Margaret finds people missing legs, arms and sometimes even heads. She doesn’t like the look of those people, she like looking at people with every body part. She finds a group of people huddled in an alleyway. She walks up to them, there are some sitting, clutching various body parts. She finds a man inspecting his hand. She realizes he doesn’t have one. Her eyes light up.
“Is this yours?” she asks. The man looks up from his arm and his eyes fall upon the hand the girl is holding. He just stares at it and makes odd noises.
“Is it yours?” she repeats. The man nudges the woman next to him. She looks at the hand and them the girl.
“Don’t tell me they are getting young girls to do it too” she says in an irritated voice. Margaret wonders what the woman thinks she has done.
“Do you want this sir?” she asks the man.
“No I do not one of your trophies,” he says angrily. Margaret wonders what he means, she has no trophy, just a hand and a locket.
“I should kill you right here you know” he says. She wonders why he doesn’t want his hand back and why he would want to kill her because of it.
“Is it not your hand?” she asks.
“How am I supposed to know?” he yells, “It has fallen off!” She decides that the hand she has is not his, with them scowling at her, she turns back to the bloody street and sees the vast array of bodies dotted around on the cobblestone. She wanders around but is reluctant to ask any more people in case they get mad at her like the man and the woman did. She thinks about it and decides that maybe if she leaves it in a visible spot then the person who owns the hand will come and find it. She regards that scene and thinks she will leave it in the sun. Margaret knows the perfect place. She walks back up the street past the dead and dying, there are people who aren’t hurt. Some are stealing the dead vendor’s items, others are just horrified at the whole situation. She smiles at a couple as usual but none of them feel like smiling back. She walks over to the mirror vendor’s stall. She lays the hand by some of the broken mirrors, she thinks that it will reflect the hand to everyone. She looks up at the sky and sees that it is leaving to help other people. Whenever that happens she always starts walking home. She wonders if the dead are happy in the afterlife. She knows that wherever would be better than lying on the cold streets. She gets to her house, only to find the door open again. She prepares for the worst before remembering that there isn’t anything for them to take. She creeps inside the house and sees someone hiding in the corner of the house. She hopes it is a visitor.
“Hello, how are you?” she asks the person. The person is whimpering.
“Are you okay?” Margaret asks.
“I’m scared” the person replies.
“Do you want to see my room?” Margaret asks.
“Are you going to hurt me?” the person asks.
“No, do you want some food?” Margaret asks, trying to be nice.
“Well, okay, thank you” the person says.
“Here, you can have my apple, I don’t mind” Margaret offers, handing her the apple she found yesterday. The person comes out of the corner. It was a girl, she had black hair like Margaret and a mud caked face. She wore different traditional clothing as Margaret though but she seemed to be the same age. Margaret wondered if they were the same person. They sat in silence, the only noise being the munching or crunching of leftover stale bread and the apple. Finally, Margaret asked the girl’s name.
“My name is Taiya” she replies
“My name is Margaret” Margaret says happily, “do you want to be my friend?”. Taiya looks slightly shocked at the question and took another bite of the apple.
“Well, okay, can you help me find my dad?” Taiya asks “I lost him when the bullets started firing”
“What are bullets?” Margaret asks curiously.
“Um…they are the things that make loud noises and hurt people” Taiya replies.
“Oh, I know those” Margaret says.
“Yeah, my dad was hurting people with those” Taiya says, “he was on a mission, I always have to come along because I have no other place to stay”.
“Why does you dad hurt people?” Margaret asks.
“He says it is for the good of all people in the world” Taiya says. Margaret wonders where the world is and if it is a nice place to go.
“Oh, so he hurts people because it helps people?” Margaret asks, she thinks that doesn’t make sense.
“I guess” Taiya replies her eyes drifting towards the platform that Margaret’s bed of rags is on.
“Is that where you sleep?” she asks.
“Yes, do you want to see my locket?’ Margaret asks, she would have really liked to show Taiya her doll and name but since they were gone the locket is the only thing she has left. They climb up the ladder to her platform room and Taiya inspects the bed and floor.
“You are lucky, I have to sleep on the dirt in a tent, because we always have to move around” she says. Margaret never considered herself lucky before, she thought that was how all people lived.
“Do you want to sleep up here with me?” Margaret asks her.
“Okay, thank you very much Margaret” Taiya replies. Margaret beams. They both say their prayers to their Gods and fall asleep. Margaret thinks her prayers have been answered, a friend of her own.

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Thanks to Golden Nightingale for the pics!
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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Golden_nightingale on Thu May 31, 2007 4:44 pm

It's good, It was easier to read the last part, to be honest.

"She sits in the mess and cries, her life is gone, it left with her items. She is desperate for the sun but cannot pull herself to leave her home. Through her tears, she sees a faint sparkle below her. Margaret hops down the ladder as quickly as her legs can Lying on top of the dust under her little platform is her locket, she runs to it and clutches it close to her heart. A part of her life has been returned. She cries herself to sleep that night.

She wakes up the next morning, the sun is streaming through one of the cracks in the mud house. She sits up happily like every morning until she remembers two of her most beloved things in life are gone, she wonders why anyone would want her name and a doll. Did someone have the same name as her and didn’t want to forget it. She scrapes off dried tears from her eyes and reluctantly hops off of her platform. She only prays to the God of love that day.

She wanders out into the sunny cobblestone streets, the sun shone down on her face, she has never wanted the sun’s magic more the now. Margaret is wearing the locket today, her home is no longer a safe haven for her now. She looks at the vendor’s stalls as usual but skips the mirror vendor, what good is looking upon her tatty clothes and mud caked face if she has no name, and why should she exist if her companion is gone. As she sadly travels down the streets she thinks about this."

When you look at this part, I guess you see you've used a lot of "she". To make the text better, you should try to variate. Remember, "the little girl", etc might make the text better, after all Wink

I understand if you don't want me to come with critique, but I don't mind if you want to Razz
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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Fri Jun 01, 2007 2:29 am

Nope, it is good to have some feedback. I'm glad you like it. I gave started on the 2nd chapter already!

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Golden_nightingale on Fri Jun 01, 2007 3:02 am

Yay :3

Can't wait, lol
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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Fri Jun 01, 2007 3:15 am

I'm thinking, American soldiers taking over! LIKE IRAQ! NEEEEEEEEER!

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Kaiser on Wed Jun 06, 2007 2:29 am

It's good! Very imaginiative. queen king farao jocolor geek
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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Roobi on Wed Jun 06, 2007 8:39 am

Ruby is all imagination! BEATS GN'S STORY! NER! Well, probably not but...oh well

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Re: Ruby's story (also with no name)

Post by Kaiser on Thu Jun 07, 2007 3:57 am

They're probably both as good as each other.

I wanna make a Once-Upon-A-Time-in-Mexico-style murder story. With Enrique Iglesias!
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