Story Ideas

[3]: Replica

These were some diary entries written for a summer reading assignment during the summer after 7th grade. I made a few edits here and there but otherwise it's mostly the same. This was based off a book called 'Replica' by Lauren Oliver.

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Lyra:

I woke up to the warmth of the marshes, darkness surrounding me as I rubbed my eyes in confusion. I looked beside me to see 72 sleeping with his arms underneath his head, lips slightly open when I am suddenly reminded of what had just happened a few hours ago; the sound of explosions and screams; the streams of orange and yellow flames covering my view; Cassiopeia lying helplessly on the ground; the sky tinged a starry, blood-red. Sitting up, I wondered what had woken me up, but that is when I heard it: footsteps. Before I knew what I was doing, I shook 72 awake just in time to hear a female's voice.

"What now?" the female said. "Do you think we can still get—?" She stopped abruptly in the middle of her sentence, and I realized that my foot slipped without me noticing.

The sudden fear of being caught by soldiers slipped into my mind. They must be soldiers sent to find the surviving replicas; they must be. But then I realized that she didn't sound nor move like one: swift and fearless, with the confidence that their guns will protect them. Rather, she sounded gentle and kind. I realized that they must be people. People who were born outside of Haven and lived a normal life. Then why did they seem so afraid? As if that if they were caught, they would be killed even though they weren't replicas. Why were they here then? What did they want?

72 stood up a bit and looked ahead. Watching. Listening. Behind the thick spur of trees were people; people who may be looking just for them. I then remembered what Nurse Don't-Even-Think-About-It said about the trees being bad luck.

Feeling the need to move, I stretched my body into a crouch just as I heard a branch snap underneath me. 72 shushed me, signaling me to stop moving.

"Don't move. Don't move," he said again.

Before I could react, I heard a loud crashing of movement, and it was suddenly quiet.

"Who's there?" 72 asked, but all that met them was silence.

Acting on impulse, I ran, pain piercing through my feet, my breath raggedy as I tried to get away from the unknown danger. But then I realized that I had nowhere to run, nowhere to stay, and nowhere to call home. Haven, where I was made and grew up at, was my home. Without Haven, I was nothing.

When I heard someone tumble down through the shadows, I stopped, and I knew that I had run towards the danger, and not away from it. Then I heard a male speak.

"Jesus. Jesus Christ."

"That voice," the female said. "Where did it come from?"

"I don't know. Christ, Gemma. Look . . ."

There was a pause, but shortly after I heard the female coughing. Side effects? I thought as relief washed over me. Perhaps I've been wrong, and that these were other replicas, not humans. Did they escape the way me and 72 had? I had to know.

I crept toward the sound of voices, moving the weave of grass out of the way as I spotted two beings, the male standing against the moonlight, and the female kneeling down, trembling for an unknown reason.

"What the hell? What the hell?" The male repeated over and over again.

I felt a sudden breeze, and before I could even think, I stepped out into the moonlight.