Author's Note:
I hope you like this book!
I got the idea off a writing prompt. It was had a huge picture of an iceberg and a quote above the iceberg talked about how kids are like the peak of an iceberg. I didn't read it carefully enough so I only got iceberg and kids out of it. I then wondered, "What if kids lived on icebergs?" Thanks to my mistake of misreading the writing prompt.
Please don't be afraid to comment to this. I like to know my mistakes in writing (Bring on the harsh criticism. I love it, surprisingly), some questions about my story or writing, and how you, the reader, feels about the plot and characters. (I'm sorry if I sound like an English teacher but I just would like to know those things).
Now I'll... Let the reading begin!I woke up in a dark room. Pain was surging throughout my body. I tried to stand up but my knees would always buckle so I could only sit on the hard, cold ground. Once my eyes adjusted, I started to see silhouettes of a big group of tall, muscular men.
All in unison, the silhouettes start speaking to me, "You are Anchor #10217. We are the Creators. You will be living on an Iceberg for the rest of your life," Then, I hear just one voice speaking, "Subject has bright green eyes and chestnut color hair." I try to talk back but my voice was so sore.
All I could do was mumble, "Where... am... I?"
One Creator says, "That can't be answered by the Creators. You will find out soon. You won't remember the past but, your name is Peter." Then, I pass out.I wake up. I'm still a little sore but I feel way much better than the last time I woke up. I stand up. Relieved I could do something new, I see white. A glistening white wall. What is this? Wait, the Creators told me I was going to be on an Iceberg. This has to be an Iceberg.
"They say that," I must of said what I was thinking out loud because this high-pitched voice seemed to be talking to me, "but we call them Ships. Creators... ," then, the high-pitched voice was muffled by something. Maybe a hand.
"Where are you? Ships are probably not big so you won't be able to run away. Come here." I yell getting mad at this voice.
"Don't. You. Dare." A scruffy, older voice says.
"Chris, we have to. It's The Rule. Work together." The high-pitched voice says.
"Blah, blah, blah. I hate The Rule. Why can't we just work independently and pay no attention to the other kids," says Chris.
"Let's go talk to him. He probably could answer your question," says the high-pitched voice.
"Fine, Ray of Happiness. Always have to do the right thing," says Chris. I hear a crisp, loud punching sound. I assume the high-pitched voice kid punched Chris.
"Hey, let me go follow The Rule. He's probably way smarter than you, Hard Head," says the high-pitched voice kid. In the distance, I see a silhouette of a short kid.
"Hey! My name is Dylan," says a short, high-pitched voice silhouette. Dylan waves his hand. He starts walking towards me. Scared but curious, I began talking to him.
"My name is Peter. Where are we?"
"We are on an Iceberg or as we call it, a Ship. It's made of unbreakable ice and moves every once and a while."
"What are we doing here?"
"We are Anchors. 5 Anchors to a Ship. This is Ship #44. There are only 3 of us for now. Chris was here first. Then me. Then you. We don't know what we are here for."
He's finally 10 feet away from me. He has flaming red hair with gray eyes. He is probably 5 feet tall.
He looks up at me and says, "Welcome to your Ship. Our Ship, actually," he turns around and yells, "Chris, you can't hide forever." We hear a loud sigh as a tall figure starts walking toward Dylan and I. I was guessing this was Chris.
"Newbies. Peter, right," Chris says getting interested into the new visitor to his world.
"Ya. Chris, right," I ask.
"Duh? Are you smarter than you sound?"
"I don't know," I say. Chris comes into my view.
He has golden blonde, slicked-back hair with sky blue eyes. He is probably 6 feet tall. Comparing my eye level with their heights, I guessed I'm 5 foot 6.
"Your actually interesting. More interesting than this ray of sunshine and happiness," Chris smirks at Dylan while Dylan scowls.
"So, how do we live on a Ship, Chris and Dylan?" I ask.
YOU ARE READING
Anchoring
Science FictionPeter: Icebergs. Well, that's what Creators call them. Anchors, what I am, call them Ships. All the Creators said to me was: "You are Anchor #10217. We are the Creators. You will be living on Icebergs for the rest of your life." Joanna: Father is...