Young Writers Society

Background

No one had ever told them it could be a bad thing, the act of giving back to strangers. Adults never think that far ahead, of how telling stories to their children of doing something good and helping others in need could be detrimental to their health.

No one ever needed to see the possible dark side, until now.

It wasn’t even their fault. How could they, actually decent teenagers, have known the consequences? Never had they been taught that it was possible for bad things to come to good people or in answer of good deeds.

That was crazy and awful to even think of, let alone explain or believe.

Maybe this new world was actually a blessing, a good thing. It had be. Why else would they have been punished in such an awful way?

All they knew was that they had been transported into a waste land - they would have starved within days if they hadn’t been in the presence of others.

They came from a regular world into something created from nightmares. The only thing they had was a book, empty for a single line: “Each of you carry an aspect of your past life that will ultimately determine all of your fates.”

None of them knew what to do with that, but they all secretly hoped it would occur to them one day, and that they would know exactly what to do.

That day couldn’t come any sooner.

Setting

Every character left behind their idea of a normal life, whether it was in the US, Europe, or Australia, and from all types of land, whether they were from a city or the countryside.

Their new world is very different than anything they have ever experienced.

To begin with, there is no real water. The locals claim that water supplies ran out about fifty years before the teens’ untimely arrival. What they have to drink now is a synthesized version, using old urine and the very few plants actually still living.

That’s another thing. The only plants around are more scarce than typical desert life. Cactuses and tumbleweeds line every part of the desolate landscape.

It’s up to the teens to determine how to stay alive and remain healthy, to an extent, with or without the other people’s help.

Characters

Depending on how the teens treat them, the locals may be of use to strangers. However, if ill-treated, the others are not afraid of seeking revenge, not caring who else is affected. It would do the teens well to be wary, if not as pleasant as they possible could be.

Character Slots

1. @killeham
2. @LemonTheDorkyPanda
3. @Vellichor
4. @PrincessInk
5. @Basil

Pollen “Lena” Buron

Day One

The day had started like any other, but never did she think something like this could happen. All that she could remember was walking down the hallway and -

-someone fell and she dropped to her knees on instinct, she recognized that sense of embarrassment and just wanted to help-

A stranger had tripped right in front of her. What else could she do besides lean down to pick up their stuff? Lena did not mind getting to class a little later. One tardy was not the end of the world, right?

The student she helped smiled at her without saying a word. Lena returned the gesture, and started to walk away. That would be her kind gesture of the day. A hand reached out and grabbed her shirt. She spun to see the stranger. What was this about?

Before Lena could say anything, her world started to spin. Swirls of color soon surrounded her, blurring her vision. She could not see anything! Was she still at school? What was happening?

Nausea began to overtake her. Her breath came in quicker and quicker. Her surroundings were moving so quickly that the world became a wave of white. It wasn't ending, it wasn't ending, it wasn't -

She couldn't sense a change at first, but her vision became clearer as her world calmed. Soon, she could make out colors, but only red and blue seemed prominent; everything else had too subtle of a change.

Lena was able to take a deep breath and close her eyes once all other movement seemed to cease. She had to be somewhat calm now, after the craziness that had happened. Who knows what's going on.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was reddish-brown sand covering the earth. Hills and valleys were off in the distance, and there were a few small figures moving a few miles away.

How did she end up here? Lena choked on a sob and grabbed her hair. What was going on? She was in California mere seconds ago, and now she was in a desert? It didn't even look like a good one; it was too barren.

She screamed for a second. Would anyone even hear her? She spun around, trying to find a life source. Then she remembered seeing what she hoped were people far away. Where were they?

Lena stumbled at her first attempt at walking. The ground was soft, and gave more than she expected. She couldn't be sidetracked by that though - she had to find help in some way or another.

"Hey!" Lena called out, waving her arms. She didn't care if she looked like a lunatic. There had to be someone who took notice of her.

She walked for a few more minutes, but the figures looked no where closer.

"Please," she screamed as loudly as she could, "I need help!"

Not one figure gave any sort of acknowledgement. Gasps left her mouth as she realized the futility of her struggles. She didn't have anything with her - she was going to die if she didn't get help now.

The wind picked up then, sending the ground into the air. Particles of fine, red dirt circled around in mock tornadoes. She could not help the cough that escaped her. The dryness of the air quickly reduced her mouth to tasting like ash.

When her vision cleared, there were other teenagers crouched right by a sand dune.

Someone had to know something, right? She walked over to the group. Hopefully they would figure out what just happened together.

Jet

The day had started off just like any other. I'd woken to the sound of the kettle boiling, my brother and father talking loudly, and the blaring of some alarm in another room. Bleary eyed, I'd dragged myself from bed to hobble over to Orion's tank, opening the lid to greet him – "Bonjour, Orion!" – with the smile I have reserved just for him. The water python seemed, as usual, resistant to my charm. It seemed his interest in me showed only when it was time for food, and he always knew when he was going to be fed.

Stumbling into the kitchen, my hair a tangled mess atop my head, I was greeted with loud laughter and jovial tones, my brother walking around shirtless while my father made jokes about it.

"Good morning, sweetie," Dad said over his mug of coffee.

"Morning," I gave him a soft grin.

"Morning Jet, how'd you sleep?" Max beamed at me. "Do you want breakfast? I can whip up some pancakes for you."

"I might just have toast today," I smiled softly at him. "And can you please put a shirt on? You're going to poke Dad's eye out in a second."

Max winked at me while Dad roared with laughter.

After breakfast I'd showered and dressed, gathered my things and head out. Most days I usually find places to sit and paint, but I had something I needed to do first. I made sure I stopped by a clothes store and bought a large jacket, and got some money out at an ATM, before making my way over to the old fountain. The homeless man was where I'd spotted him the previous day, and when he noticed my approached, he waved with a big toothy grin on his face.

"Hey kid, I didn't think I'd see you today," he greeted me as I stopped in front of him.

"Yeah, I uhm," I held the plastic bag in my hand out to him. "It's starting to get cold, and you don't have a jacket."

His eyes widened as they dropped to the bag. "Kid, no –"

"It's okay, I can afford it. Plus you need the jacket," I crouched down and put the bag on the ground. "There is some money in there as well, and a container of pasta. My brother makes really good macaroni and cheese."

The man smiled at me, opening and closing his mouth as he reached for the bag. "I don't ... I ... Thank you," he breathed.

"I also have something else for you," I reached into my satchel and pulled out a laminated sheet of canvas paper. "I'm sorry it's only pastel colours, but I didn't know if you'd still be here in a few days so I did the picture last night."

He watched me with watery eyes as I hand over the artwork. He'd described a scene the previous day, while I'd been painting the fountain. When he mentioned that he missed the place, I knew I had to draw it. Not because I felt like being kind, but because he sounded so homesick, and so in love with the scenery he'd described with such care and compassion. I wanted him to see it again.

"Oh my," he looked from the picture to my face, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you so ... Oh thank you."

"You're –"

A sharp wind picked up, then. Before the words could leave my mouth, raging air battered my body, and I covered my face to protect my eyes. The wind died down barely a second later, and a sudden lick of heat swept over my back and arms.

Lifting my head, eyes cracking open to peer between my fingers, all I could glimpse was red and blue.

So my rather normal day has turned into ... This?

"What in the fresh fu–?"

"Hey! What's going on?"

I whip my head around to find there are about four other people behind me, all equally as confused. A brunette stands near a quite athletically built guy with dark hair and a passive expression. My gaze scans the other two faces, the younger looking boys staring around them with blinking eyes. Frowning, I turn away from them all to scan the horizon. A couple dark spots far out over the dunes, but that seems to be it. Just open blue skies above, and rolling sand and oh, further out, there looks like a change in scenery.

I turn around to face the others. "Where the hell are we?" I ask, my quiet voice carrying even over the gentle wind ruffling the sand at my feet.

All eyes turn on me, and I suddenly regret opening my mouth.

I woke up just as I would’ve any other day, with two small hands shaking my shoulders and saying, “Jinx, you gotta wake up! Jinx! I want pancakes!”

I let out a small chuckle and slowly opened my eyes. “Morning, Jovy.” Just as I sat up, she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of bed.

“No school! We gotta celebrate! Pancakes!” She pulled me into the kitchen and turned on the TV. I shook my head, and turned to the cabinet to pull out the pancake mix. Our mom walked into the room as I poured the first pancake onto the pan. “Mornin, Mama,” Jovy chirped, turning to look at her mother. “No school, ‘member?”

“Yeah, I do. So Jinx is making pancakes? What kind?” Mama replied, smiling in greeting to me, then joining Jovy on the couch.

“I don’t know, I hope chocolate chip, though! Hey, Mama? Can Jinx and I go to the park later?” Jovy said, with a hopeful twinkle in her eyes.

“Sure, Jovelle, that sounds fun.”

*********************************************************

Later, when Jovy and I had gotten ready, and she’d grabbed her ball from her room, and I’d grabbed my headphones from mine, we walked two blocks down to the park. I listened to music while she played and talked to some of the other little kids there.

Man, she had it good. She’s so social and lovable, it’s simple to see why she has so many friends at school. She was the almost exact opposite of me. No one bothered to talk to me at school, and beside Jovy and Mama, the only other thing that talked to me was my music. I guess that’s why I’m called the “emo weirdo.” But that’s okay, all I need is little Jovy and my music. It would be awkward if I had to talk to anyone else, anyways.

The most awkward thing, though, is when people hit on me. Jesus christ I’m a mess, because whatever comes out, they always take it wrong. Makes sense why I’m single, then. No one can like me enough to let me get past the stuttering and rambling.

Jovy bounces over to me, pulling me from my thoughts and I pull my headphones off.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

“Yep.”

As we walk back to our mom’s apartment, Jovy pulls my sleeve. “Yes?” I ask, looking down at her, but before I can say anything her ball slips from her grip and bounces into the road.

“My ball!” she exclaimed, darting after it. I panic and without thinking, jump into the road after her and get us both out of the way as a car passes. I slowly open my eyes and see a mess of black wavy hair under my chest.

“Jovy! You know better than to run into the street like that!” I said, climbing off of her and helping her to her feet. She picked up her ball as we heard the low rumble of quick winds. I met her terrified green eyes, a mirror of mine, and hear her small voice yell, “Jinx!” before everything went black.

*********************************************************

My eyes shoot open and I jump up. “Jovy!” I yell, surroundings coming into focus. I notice four other teenagers around me, all a year or two older than me and turn red.

“Where the hell are we?” I hear a girl near me say.

“Exactly what I want to know,” I replied under my breath. I looked over at her.

“Jet,” said the girl who had spoken before me. I looked at her a bit confused, the other’s faces showcasing similar expressions. “That’s my name,” she clarified.

“I’m Lena,” said the girl opposite of her. She had a suspicious look in her eyes; she obviously didn’t trust us. I’m a little hesitant too.

Then another boy spoke up, slightly taller than me, “And I’m Ben.” Their eyes all turn on me and my the red in my cheeks spreads to my whole face, growing darker.

“Name’s Jinx,” I said quietly. I took a breath and tried to sound confident. “D-does an-nyone know where w-we are?” Oh great, the stutter. I look up at the sky and take another breath. It looked as polluted as the rest of this place, gray as if it would rain, but tinged brown like dirty snow. Bringing my eyes back down, I notice something in the distance. “Look, people!” I say, just as the wind picks up near our small group.

Dex glanced at the menu of the ice cream parlor though he already knew what he was going to order. Pistachio, one scoop. He twiddled his thumbs and crossed his legs. The parlor was unusually busy that day, and it would take time for the waitress to scoop out his and his friends' ice cream cones.

He used it as an opportunity to observe the other patrons. In the table near the window was an old woman in a pastel dress, accompanied by three girls in ruffled tops and skirts. Dex strained his ear to catch wisps of the conversation floating his way. “...I like to feed the jukebox the coin,” one of the girls was saying.

Jukeboxes were pretty old to him.

“You picking strawberry?” said Brandon, though everybody knew Dex's favorite was pistachio.

“Nope. Pistachio,” said Dex, expecting the answer he always got.

“Pistachio ice cream is weird. It's green, and not even mint.” Max leaned forward to look at Dex fully, shaking his purplish hair out of his eyes. “Pick something normal like chocolate, come on.”

“You shouldn't judge an ice cream by its color.”

The three of them laughed and Dex turned his head to observe again. The person sitting to the stool on the right was a middle-aged man with a mustache that drooped like a wilting plant and a bushy beard. Dex wondered how somebody could eat ice cream with such a beard, but somehow that man was managing. He watched in awe till the man met his eyes. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Dex shifted his gaze toward the many rows of ice cream in front of him and pretended to be pointing one out to Brandon.

“You seem like a nice fellow,” said the middle-aged man under his breath.

Dex didn't know how to respond, so he simply nodded.

The patron scraped the last spoonful of ice cream from his bowl and signaled the waitress over. He put his wallet on the table and paid his bills. Then he stuck his credit card back in and gazed around for a few minutes, before rising up and leaving the parlor without his credit card.

The man with the shaggy beard was gone so fast Dex forgot to remind him about the wallet, so instead he rose up and sidled over to the next stool, hoping no one would accuse him of stealing. He hastily slipped the wallet into his pocket and started toward the door.

“Where ya going?” Max asked.

“Just a minute.” Dex hurried toward the door, keeping his eyes rooted outside and tracking the patron. He was walking down the street quite briskly, unaware that there was something missing in his back pocket. Dex didn't understand how somebody could eat neatly with that mustache and beard and still lose a wallet. It almost seemed as though he had left it intentionally.

Heat clung to Dex's skin, not like the air-conditioned cool that rolled off his skin in the parlor. He dashed down the street, calling “Sir! Sir!”

The man turned around. “Er—boy?”

Dex showed him the wallet. “You forgot this.”

The patron stared a moment in disbelief. Then he rushed forward, picked it, and stowed it in his back pocket. “Thank, thank you, boy!” His smile, though slightly obscured by the mustache, was genuine and grateful. “Oh, if I did really lose it...”

Dex grinned back. He was sure his parents would approve of his deed, especially his mother, who was more impressed by moral fiber than competitive chess. “No prob—” he began.

That moment, a colorful wind swept around him, rustling his hair and painting the world around him in stripes of odd color. The store, the road, the sky began to spin. He took a step back, trying to blink the color out. The spiral of wind tightened around him, swirling more and more violently by the second. Eventually, all he could see was a blur of colors, as though he was trapped in an abstract painting. Panic tightened his chest, made it hard to breathe.

“What—the—” he shouted, holding his hands out, yearning for something familiar he could hold on to.

His stomach lurched, nausea creeping up his throat.

And then, just when he felt he was going to vomit from this endless spinning, he fell face down onto something soft. Dry, burning heat battered his face, nothing like the humidity outside the ice cream parlor. Sand filled his mouth and he choked and spluttered. When he closed his mouth, he felt his teeth grind on some grit. Ugh. He spat out some more again before rolling over and staring around him. Where on earth was he?

Vast sand dunes swept around him like a sea, seeming to morph into sky at the horizons. Desert plants like cacti dotted the dunes, casting dots of shadow on the sand, and Dex glimpsed several figures several dunes away.

Dex let out a gasp. He stumbled back a few steps, but his heel struck something hard. When he looked down, he saw it was a book without a title. Curious at what it contained, he picked it up and skimmed the pages. They were blank, except for the first page, which read:

Each of you carry an aspect of your past life that will ultimately determine all of your fates.

What rubbish was that? Dex wanted to go home and gobble up ice cream with his friends, and now he was stuck in some stupid desert with a stupid book holding a stupid line. He kicked at the sand hard.

“Look, people!” he heard somebody call.

Humans. Half of his worry melted away. At least, there might be some people (as long they weren't cannibals or bandits) he might have some help now. He ran over the sands as fast as he could, dragging his feet through the silky softness.

As he got nearer and nearer, he saw four teens crouched around a dune and looking his way. Several yards away, he pulled himself up to a walk. “Hi,” he said. “I'm Dex. Does anybody know where on earth are we and what we ought to do?”