Here it is, enjoy (hopefully)
Chapter 5
Each carved stone, each wooden tree trunk is what makes this place ursine. Our land does not contain long blade straight motorways or flashing Las Vegas lights, but mud paths through forests and picket fences around gardens. Ursine's lands are not plastic, they are natural and wooden. However the thing I feel makes Ursine's what they are, their land how it is, is their extraordinary talent to accept anyone, no matter what race, what eye colour.
However everything has changed now, this is no longer an Ursine trait.
Ursine anger can not end well.
Diary of Richard Nickleson, Ursine leader 25th December 2009
I shoved through the crowds, protesters littering the streets. A wall of racist ursine, like me in appearance, same hair, same eyes, but such different minds. They have no right to feel so strongly about people they don't know. Each piece of brickwork, each tree, they were everywhere, signs and all. They planned to march, first around our forests, then around New Aryan city.
The crowds parted, allowing me through; out of the corner of my eye I saw who I was looking for. Matt leant, sign in hand, against a tall oak. Something in me felt betrayed by Matt, how could he do something like this? What if it actually worked? What if they... she left Britain forever?
“Why? Is this some sort of joke to you?” I allowed all emotions to leave me, eyes hardening, face as cold and rigid as stone.
“I did this for me, not you.” Matt gained maturity while he spoke, making me unsure how to doubt his serious words.
“You're not patriotic, you're not political, you don't have strong views on this stuff.”
“Oh, so now I'm not suppose to have views, I normally just sit in the corner and nod, but this time I won't. This subject, I have strong views on this subject and they are 'Aryan's leave England'.” He gestured towards his sign, his voice turning into a bear like growl.
“So what? Are you going to fight Aryans to the death over your views? If so I will guarantee now that they will win.”
“If I have to, I will.” He nodded solemnly.
“Bye Matt.” I turned my back on him, twisting through the crowds.
Glancing back I could see a look of injustice on his face, he knew we were no longer friends. I couldn't joke with him now, nor steal the remote and have him accept it, everything that made us good friends was gone. I'd always thought of him as a brother, but brothers don't do that. Brothers don't fight for something that would hurt the other, and that was what he was consciously doing. Maybe I would fight for Aryan if I had a choice, and I shouldn't have to stare at him on the other side of the line.
I reached my flat. It was looking even lonelier than normal, no Matt knocking on my door twice a day for random and totally unnecessary reasons. I smiled at the thought. I entered, allowing the dull, lifeless lounge to take affect on my mood, sending me into a greater depression. Slumping myself down on the sofa, I focused my eyes on the TV, attempting to think about something, anything else than my situation. My sad, self inflicted, painful, existence. Again my eyes moved, uncontrolled around the room. I focussed on a random object.
Me and Matt had been planning to paint this piece for school using the markers and acrylics that now sat expectantly on my kitchen counter. I wouldn't be talking to Matt at school, let alone working with him. We would simply be students who went to the same school. I grabbed the pens from the desk, a snap decision that I would probably regret soon enough.
I started off with the kitchen wall, opposite the sticky, ancient oven was an empty wall, in fact every room in the house seemed to have one dark, lonely wall. I began to draw, thick black lines straight on to my new canvas, my flat. The pen glided easily across the huge expanse, leaving a jet black trail, perfectly aligned. My pen swooped as if possessed as I worked through the night, each line spurring me on, enthusing me to draw more. When I had covered every part of the wall I could reach with unrecognisable marks, I pulled up a chair, letting my work flow all the way to the ceiling. Once I had drawn I painted, my acrylics strong and bright on the wall. I moved through each room, already decided what would look best in the space. I laughed as I kept looking up towards what I had done, it certainly wasn't in that nights plans.
By the time I had finished perfecting each rooms new look, it was morning.
In the kitchen I had painted a never ending stretch of people. Each had individual eye and hair colour, their clothing was made out of every material possible and they were all ages, all genders. The people were happy, untroubled by being close to people so different. I had painted a happier world. Each figure, clear to make out was beaming, they all seemed to have something to smile about, I envied them for that.
The bathroom contained two words, I had written carefully in bold, italics 'Lilac eyes'. This was, for once not based on one particular girl I had once met, but the race. The words reflected off the many mirrors that the tiny room held, seeming to be written five times across the tiny walls.
In my bedroom was a pair of eyes, facing my bed. They stared wide and bright towards me, filing the length of my little box room. The eyes were the same shape, same size as each other, but were separated by one defining feature. Colour. One eye was a vivid purple, stronger than would be naturally possible, the other a deep, almost black, brown. I don't even know why I wanted them there, but staring across towards me, the eyes just seemed to complete the room.
The lounge held my favourite, a long colourful field stretched across the entire wall, behind the television. It was flooded with flowers of all sorts, each so bright, so beautiful. Daffodils, poppies, tulips, all so defined. A hill stood in the middle of the flowers, and on that was a gnarled, old oak. It was just as I had seen it in the summer, the colours, the shapes, it calmed me just to look at the picture, and despite getting no sleep that night; strolling around my colourful flat, I felt more alive than the previous few months put together.
This is quite a short chapter, but I didn't think it needed any more than that. I would love a review if you have time (hint, hint)
Anyone who has read up to here, i really owe a review so if you feel like giving me a link, I'd be happy to.
