Young Writers Society

**Mad>> Ivan thinks Peter is unfit for the job. Why wouldn't he? He's a sociopath. But he wouldn't mind collaberating with him. Ivan just needs to be in control. If he's not he's going to try as hard as he can to be that way, even if that means hurting the people in his way. No offense of course. This will just make everything more interesting. With conflict between two groups we can really get this storybook going. But please, if you're going to rival Ivan don't make what he does seem smaller than it really is, ie: "Trying to make a fire." He's going to make a fire, period. And it's going to be big. I'll be sure to return the favor.**

Children were gathering around the fire in globules. A little here, a little there. Their faces were all reflected eerily in the eclipsing dusk, talking quietly, shivering and looking intermittantly towards the ocean. Ivan worked silently. He tended to the fire like it was a child of his own.

Grow, kid. You're going places.

Ivan couldn't help noticing Peter in the darkness, walking towards the airplane, fighting against the flow of children who surged towards the healthy flame. So he had chosen his path. Peter was determined to be first in command, armed with guns and knives, instead of words and motive. Proverbial brawn against proverbial brains. Your move, Petey. Ivan shrugged. It didn't matter. His opposition would give Ivan a chance to prove how he truly had the children's interest at heart. Via mudslinging and smooth talking. Peter, once defeated, would come back. Ivan was sure of it. And he would accept him with open arms.

Redemption.

A kid pushed through the crowd and stood particularly close to the flame, shoving his hands toward it like a pair of potstickers. Ivan remembered his name. Hyley. He was followed closely by a girl who he didn't recognize. Ivan smiled at them casually.

Show them you're easy going. Turn on your charm.

"Need some help?"

Ivan glanced up at Hyley. "Sure."

The girl looked at her friend and rolled her eyes. "Geez, boy, always need to be the good samaritan?"

Hyley ignored her. "What do you need?"

"More firewood. That would help a lot. Do you mind?"

"Anything to help."

Senna moved away from the group quietly and walked, limped towards a pile of dead trees. She counted them and then walked towards a bunch of trees with thick leafy vegitagtion on it. She chewed the inside of her lip. Until they could build a roof those would be perfect. She lookwed down at her leg and frowned, if it would only heal she would be able to do a lot more. She walked back to the pile of wood and shoved and pushed the logs until they form a huge square. She sat down for a while. THe task had not been easy. It had taken alot of effort for each log but it was done. She looked at the ground and smiled, red clay, it would be perfect to put in the middle of the logs to block out the wind. She slowly moved away from the square to find a temporary shelter. She just needed a branch that was slanted against a tree and some leaves. She finnally found one close to the square and where the others had the fire and gathered leaves and started weaving them together. She didn't need to be with the huge group, she needed to think. She looked towards the group looking to see if Mike was over there but she didn't see him. She quickly looked back down at the leaves and then stood up and laid them over the log. Most of the kids would be able to sleep in our under hte plane, but they wouldn't all fit.

<Wiki>

I hold Charlottes hand tight as we cross the beach towards the light. It seems other people have also already chosen their friends, swarming in tiny clusters to the fire like moths to a candle.

One or two stay away for whatever reason they chose. A bold, dark shadow moves about the wreckage of the plane. Looking around, I don't know what to make of this.

Some faces are distant and weepy, others bold and proud. Some of them are vaguely familiar, whilst others are just unknown entities. I could try to place now those who will survive, and those who won't last three days, but nothing is certain. Most of them stare between eachother expectantly.

Ivan raises his hand and a spell of silence hushes the crowd.

'I guess this is most of us,' he begins confidently. 'I am Ivan. I know you're scared, we all are.' His voice is slow and calm, lulling me into a vague sense of trust. 'But we need to set priorities'

'Somewhere to sleep?' A boy asks.

'What about food?' Someone else speaks up. Using small hand movements Ivan controls the crowd almost like an orchestra, and it seems to be working.

The conversation passes straight over my head whilst I gaze around at the dusty, tired faces. The people bringing wood to the fire. Someone moving around on the outskirts of the trees. Another still rummaging through the wreckage.

The sudden unwelcome image of the pilot in my mind makes me flinch once again, triggered by a human-sized bundle lying a little way in the distance.

Whoever it was... Had been... They made it out of the water, perhaps they even tried to get to the fire.

A sickening shudder runs through my body and I speak aloud without regard of the conversation.

'Can we bury the dead?' A hush slowly falls, heads turn to frown, each asking themselves: Did I just hear right? At least I have their attention. 'Can we bury the dead?' I say, louder this time.

The last thing we need is to be haunted by the blood spattered, rotting images of those who have fallen before us.

<Jenny>

"Are you insane, Wiki?" Jenny exclaims, "Bury the dead? Bury the dead! Bury the dead indeed! Look how dark it's gotten - all we need is someone slicing off half their foot trying to remove some mangled body from the ruins of the plane!"

All eyes were on her, but she didn't shrink.

"Someone said something about food. Ivan mentioned firewood. And I think Senna over there has found some shelter." Eyes swiveled over to Senna, who stood up from her crouch.

Jenny turned to face Wiki, "Look, son, we can bury the unfortunate tomorrow - hold a dawn service, if that'd make you feel better, but right now, there is no time for ceremonies, okay?"

Wiki bit his lip, then reluctantly nodded.

Ivan tilted his head, regarding Jenny - maybe it was not just Peter who would be a threat?

Jenny rubbed her hands together, "Now, Hyley, if you can go gather some more firewood. . . And you - Charley - you don't mind me callin' you that, eh? - could you and Senna build up that shelter area. . . And whoever is left, can help me forage for some food."

Jenny paused to take a breath, "That all right with everyone else?"

Senna stood close enough to the group to hear.


"Shelters should be simple, I've laid out some logs for a larger structure, but I can't do much with this leg. BUt if some people wouldn't mind me instructing them I could easily show em how. I can do a bit, but not much." Senna said looking around, "We should, if we all work hard enough, be able to build a bigger building in two days, the clay is perfect for instilation, though we will need to find a way to cut down trees and brances and such. Until then we can just build several lean tos."

<Jenny>

Jenny nooded at Senna, "Maybe we should all build the shelter first. . . So we have somewhere to sleep tonight."

Hyley grimaced, "I ain't sleepin' with no skirts!"

Jenny smiled fondly at him, "I'd rather sleep on the beach too. . . But I hat to break it to you; it looks like it's gonna rain. I thought it had gotten too dark too quickly."

Everyone looked up.

Drak angry clouds seemed to be gathering across the horizon, steadily blocking out the afternoon sun.

Ivan purses his lip in thought.

Mike seems to have gone off after Peter.

Jonathan and William talked quietly, going to and fro, putting sticks and small logs in a growing pile near the fire.

Wiki looked up at Charlotte and said, "I think we should help Senna build her shelter."

Hyley nodded, "'Specially if it's gonna rain."

Ivan agreed, "Though someone will have to sit and tend to the fire."

Charlotte spoke up in the first time Jenny heard her voice, "I'll do it."

<Wiki>

So we're building a shelter. Admitedly a good idea in such obscure crisis, but the idea of gathering so many people under a single shelter is something I'd much rather not contemplate.

I'll help build it, perhaps possibly find a place not too crowded, wait out the night. Someone will find us soon. They have to, don't they?

Jenny is right. I look again across the dark waves that are pulling in fast, the purple clouds lining the horizon. Whatever shelter we build, it'll have to be strong.

Senna starts giving instructions to some of the bigger kids, and it suprises me how organised she is as the matchstick structure takes form.

'Someone needs to hold that,' she commands. Her eyes are darting back and forth as she fills the gaps between the tree trunks in front and the blueprints in her mind. 'Grap that big branch.' I follow her instruction, wrapping my arms around a thick, horizontal branch that would make a great additional support. 'Now push it forward.'

I push.

I push harder.

I force all my weight onto the branch as it shakes slightly, still removing to budge. Jenny laughs at my attempt as she pushes it forward with ease.

'I don't think so kid.' She looks down at me. I don't think she approves of me yet, but she's abiding. They all are.

When I get home, I definately need to start working out. Our second house has a fair sized multi-gym. I'll grow taller too.

Defeated, I dodge my way through the diligant workers to Senna.

'Hey.' I catch her attention. She looks down at me, obviously having seen the incident. 'Can I help you?' A brief expession of pity crosses her face.

This kid thing is seriously starting to annoy me. I mean, really, am I much younger than them? I try my best to convince her.

'As well as the shelter, we should pile logs or rocks across the sand. If the water comes in too far we'll at least have something to stop it reaching the shelter a little longer.'

Is this storybook still going?

Name: Trevor Hanson
Age: 13
Specialties: Unnerving foresight. Can sympathize with "evil", but wishes to be "good"
Appearance: A tad bit small for his age with slight shoulders. Black hair , long on the sides with the bangs cropped short. Has a scar going from the corner of his mouth up his jawline from the crash. Wearing a "Locke who?" badge.
Background: Unknown. (in LotF the backgrounds weren't shown. So...ha :p )
Attitude: Confused by own motives. Again, wants to be good but has some "darkness" within him. Sounds cheesy, I know. He is serious a lot, which throws people off when he's spontaneously humorous. Doesn't act like 13 much of the time.

And yes, he's completely based on Simon

<Wiki>

I stand as patiently as I can, waiting for a reply. Still the others move about, shifting shadows bringing Sennas idea to life.

Eventually I take a deep sigh, give up that attempt, and wonder off in search of something else. I keep my eyes down on the sand below me.

Step by step I walk until another pair of feet break my vision.

'Sorry.' I look up at the boy I had almost walked into. He looks about my age, give or take a few months. He too has black hair, and a bright "Locke who?" badge. He stares at me expectantly, his serious frown emphesises the scar across his cheek.

Whatever is going through his mind, he seems sincere enough. I can work with that.

'Who are you?' I ask thoughtlessly.