Hey! So I hope you guys are enjoying this story.
I know it's unedited, but I am re-writing it in a real journal, so I will post that version when I am finished.
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Singing?
I looked over at Bransen in shock, and I found that -surprisingly- his facial expression matched my own. His eyebrows were raised, and a frantic look crossed over his eyes. I had never seem him frantic before, his emotions were always closed off - and at one point I had the thought that he was mutant robotic sent to kill me off.
But now that I saw him in this stage- eyes wide in fear, quick passing I realized that my statement was false, and boy was I way off. I was confused as to why he was shaking in fear, we finally had a chance at surviving (hoping the person could actually do useful things either than science and cooking pizza), and he was panicking.
I could tell by the tune of the voice that the person was a female, and my ears perked up. Maybe she knew why we were here, why we were left alone to survive. I felt a sudden urge of happiness and I smiled at Bransen. We were finally going to be able to re-create the world and I felt like I was floating on cloud 9.
But then there was the worry. Worry that she could just be another male with any overly high pitched voice. I had the worry that she could be one of those girls; fake, always rude to everyone who wasn't on their social food chain.
I slowly looked at Bransen and whispered to him, "what's wrong?"
He looked up from the ground and I could tell by the distressed look in his eyes that the reason couldn't be explained right now. I patted his shoulder before the door quickly swung open revealing a flabbergasted girl.
She stopped in her tracks when she noticed us, am immediately took off her shoe. She held it up high like a baseball bat and stepped slowly towards us. She narrowed her eyes at us, and flung the shoe at my head.
It hit my forehead with a loud thump, and I felt the pain slowly make its way onto the spot where the shoe had hit.
I gasped, surprised by the intact and I stared the girl in the face. Her bright blue eyes were wide in shock, and her dark purple hair was slowly falling out of her pony tail as she shook her head between Bransen and I.
She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut.She looked at us cautiously, unaware that her actions were being taken in by Bransen, whom looked like he had spotted an angel.
And, I suppose that was true.
Her bright blue eyes shone with happiness and confusion, and her eyebrow were raised so high it looked as though they might snap off. She looked young, no older than sixteen. Her short figure slouched down and then popped back up, making her at least 5'4.
"What are you doing here?" Our eyes widened with shock at her loud British voice, she sounded quit powerful for her size, and suddenly I took a step back.
Just in case.
"We came looking for you," Bransen said, he stood up from on top of the bed, and walked to stand beside me.
She rolled her eyes, and pointed to his bag. The map was slightly showing, so I walked over to hand it to her. We carefully watched as her tiny fingers slowly UN-zip the zipper to reveal what was inside. To be honest, we hadn't search the bag thoroughly, but she sure did.
She looked in every zipper, every pouch, placing all the items neatly on the floor in front of her.
There laid the map we had used to find our way here, matches and a lighter, a harness and a rope, a phone, which I quickly grabbed to inspect, some sort of watch, a travel sized first aid bracelet, a video camera, and lastly a key.
I had no idea where the key would go, so for now i strapped it to one of the belts hook on my pants. She looked curiously at all the items before scooting over two feet. She ordered Bransen to pass her a backpack that looked similar to mine, and she soon laid out all the articles on the floor.
After she was done she looked up at us and pointed towards Bransen.
"Do you have one?" She asked him, and he nodded.
"I'll go get it." He said cautiously, "but why?"
She stood up and rubbed off the imaginary dirt off her pants.
"There might be a pattern." She said. The look on her face told us she'd explain once Bransen got his backpack, he quickly headed out the door.
Silence formed, and I found myself staring at her.
She looked no older than seventeen, her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked over the condiments the black backpacks had once held. Her brown hair, that had purple tips, was tied into a loose ponytail, and I felt the urge to move a strand of hair that was covering her left eye.
Bransen soon came back, and she set to work again laying everything out while I grabbed the video taper and started fidgeting with the buttons.
I soon figured out how to work the basics, and I hit the record button.
"There's some sort of personality patter," she said, standing up and observing her work, "from what I can tell," she pointed at me, "you're a pretty out going guy."
I nodded along, not getting where she was going.
She pointed to the rope, harness, matches and lighter.
"Shy, closed off people wouldn't do that. And you," she pointed at Bransen who seemed to be falling head over heels.
"I'm guessing you're a pretty closed-off guy. And very smart." She said, "very smart."
She then pointed her tiny finger in the direction of his bag.
His bag was quite opposite to mine.
He had a laptop which looked very expensive, lab goggles, gloves, a white science coat, a map that had a red pen that led to somewhere north, a phone, and another type of key.
His was different, more round at the end, and the tip was way more intricate than mine had been.
My brain suddenly clicked and understood what she was talking about.
Whoever had made these bags based them off of our personality.
But how would they know.
