I awoke to a sharp, distinctive smell of something burning--although not unusual in this part of town--it was too strong, too close. I vaulted out of bed in a dreary haze to get to the source. It was never good to be near their smoke. Tumbling down the worn steps in blind haste, I was met with dim lighting of the kitchen and mom wafting the oven's volcanic smoke through the window with a dish towel. I scrunched up my face as the burnt scent of whatever it was that she failed to cook filtered through my nose. I sneezed.
"Bless you, darling. I'm glad you're up. I need you to get your brother and sister up and ready then I need you to go into town and get me things on this list. Say hi to the Miss at Hallvinier Orphanage will you? You need to be on top of your service hours, darling."
Service hours. The only thing that can get you out of the hole that is this dead place. How many service hours you gather from age eight to eighteen garters what your work hours will be and your income. The more service hours the better the income. Mum was an orphan and there weren't a lot of opportunities to do her service hours and Dad got a moderate income because he went through a lazy stage in his fifteenth and sixteenth year. Those with really good incomes are in the main town cultivating a service oriented workforce, but you get paid for it so it's not really service work. The main town is a mystery in it's policies. In our outer towns, the forgotten ones we call ourselves, some try to get the most service hours so they can send their income home, but those that leave never come back. Anyone over eighteen that didn't do many service hours were stuck with the jobs they got and rarely ever entered the main town. Dad was lucky to be fortunate to be able to come and go after his grown reputation in his renovation skills were. Maybe it was his income rate that kept him from staying there permanently. I didn't make the rules so how should I know what goes on in their brains? It's stupid.
"Got it, Mum. Dad at work?"
"He'll be out of town for a while. He has some projects that they need him for."
I hummed as I got up, ready to start my day over again.
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Creative Writing Shorts
Short StorySo, I have a best friend who is basically my sister. She now has Wattpad and has DEMANDED that I put my Creative Writing Prompts/Shorts/To Be Continued stories on here. She thinks that there needs to be full out books growing from these in the futur...
