hey I hope you like this story pls tell me what you think of it and I need some ideas. this story does not mean to be offending in any way thx :-) -- zeldadungeon
prologue
" Matthew" said Martha Wesley. she had given birth to a son recently, "his name is Matthew" Matthew was a baby, just like any other. except for one thing. he was genetically altered. Martha loved to fund science, and was a supporter of genetic engineering. she let the scientists use her to experiment with a new injection. her baby was born in EXACTLY nine months and was perfectly healthy. he had blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, even though he looked nothing like his mother. his father, Scott Wesley, was very proud to have a perfect son. soon, people wanted their babies to be perfect too. scientists and doctors started charging thousands of dollars for the shots. an African American woman, named Kayla Layrell, paid and received the shot. in exactly nine months, on July 22nd, a perfect baby was born, with blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. not a single flaw. in five years, it had become very popular. almost everyone had genetically altered kids. they were always favored at school and activities. soon, small, shabby schools were established for "normal" children. they were taught more about labor than other things. they were never taught how to read or write, and it was very hard to get a job. an injection company had gotten an idea about fifteen years after Matthew Wesley's birth. he flew to the country's capital to talk to the dictator. he explained the idea. he told the dictator that he would pay him fifty percent of the company's funds if he made a new law that said it was legal to murder people who are not genetically engineered. the dictator agreed. the day the law was passed, more than 50,000 people were gruesomely murdered. after that, regular people have lived in the woods and barren areas of the world. the prices for injections are obscenely high, so most people face the terror of wondering if they will live through the day. some people predict the "regulars" will die off. some say they will form an army. I honestly think we will thrive in hiding if we can. and if we die, we die. most people couldn't handle seeing people die. I can. im.... unusual. dying to me isn't a big deal. but deep down, I know something has to be done.
"AHHH!!!" I wake up, again, to hear the agonized scream of another victim. yes, I am used to it now. I think all hybrids, or genetically altered people, spend their time thinking of ways to murder us. sometimes, they are rather torturous. sometimes, they are supposed to be but have failed. I struggle to silently pull myself out of the hollow tree I sleep in. hybrids are too dumb to think of this. it is a good place for hunting too. I keep a pistol with me at all times, so might as well hunt with it. I know what you're thinking, it would make to much noise. no, hybrids have created a silent pistol, made for assailants. I happened to find one lying carelessly on the ground. anyway, from the open ending in the top of the tree, I can shoot birds and curious squirrels at the mouth. yes, a bird has pooped on me before, but much worse has happened before. besides, I can only leave once a month to soak in a lake. yes, that is my bath. because of this, I have a torturous rash on my underarm.
I stretch my weary legs and arms. I have only been in that hollow for two days, but it felt like years! I'm estimating the killing was two or three miles away. I realize if the killer is going home, he will head this way. since they are basically super-mutts, they seem to have eternal stamina. I run west, knowing there is a hidden hole I hide in underground there. I come to the hole, which is under a tree. I wriggle as quietly as I can through the sharp brambles. I feel a nip at my finger to see a strange bug scuttle away. my finger starts immediately burning relentlessly. I have to bite a branch to keep from making noise. I haven't spoken or even vocalized in three years, so if I did it might be hoarse gibberish. I hear feet crashing through the forest. mutts aren't very stealth, that's for sure. from where I sit, or hunch with my back uncomfortable, I catch a glimpse of a bloody rope. I like to ponder he killing ,methods of these. mutts sometimes. I remember when I killed one once. of course, back then I was all fired up about "freedom". freedom is a myth.
I snap out of my daydreams to see the mutt had passed on entirely. I make my way to the wash lake, to see if I can heal my ever hurting bite. I step quietly, avoiding leaves and sticks. I have about a ten minute walk. it probably doesn't sound like much, but when you know you could be gruesomely killed on the spot, it feels like hours. I finally make to the bank of the lake,trying to make my way in noiselessly. which is almost impossible.
I slide into the not-so-cool water and rub the dirt off my arms and legs. I don't dare wash my face, its not a good idea to submerge your face into water out here...
for a minute I huddle on the dry bank of the lake watching the fish dart around under the water. sometimes they'll push up dirt and hide, but I can still see their silver, shimmering scales. I ponder the chances of me catching one for a meal... I quickly decide I would rather not stay here , or there will definitely be trouble.
I start the ten minute walk towards the hollow again, my bite now feeling very dry. I honestly have no idea of what bit me. It was very broad, with red wings and super-sized pincers. it also had very little, beady eyes. I just hope it isn't poisonous.
I remember when I first took refuge in the woods, I was so freaked out by all the insects and spiders crawling around. eventually I got over it and made some friends. first was Madrid the wasp, named after a mythical country that supposedly existed long ago. at first he was nice, but then he stung me, and I killed him. I'm not so sure he was an ordinary wasp now.... he gave me such a strange bite.
"growwwwwlll"
I freeze in my tracks. thanks to my daydreaming about pet wasps (or whatever they ares), I didn't notice the was something following me.
I very slowly turn around.
