Not if you read about the city….The city is fictional, as are the circumstances surrounding it. This city has been abandoned by civilization, and it gets more into the scifi aspect later on in the story.
Sci Fi & Fantasy / Faded Into Grey, Chapter 1.1
I used to think that getting shot was the worst pain of all- a kind of burning rushing through you, and you want to beg for death. It turns out that getting shot is something that you can get used to- you can block out the pain because you’re so familiar with it.
It’s a beautiful thing, blocking out pain- it shows strength, in a bloodied, morbid way.
Physical pain is so much easier to block than the kind of torture that happens in your mind and heart- when the only person you’ve ever loved slowly bleeds to death on a sidewalk, or when you have to watch your mother rot away from cancer.
That kind of pain is impossible not feel, and even harder to heal from. That kind of pain rips you apart at the seams, tears your insides out through your throat.
That kind of pain is the worst.
There are no drugs to deal with it- not really. Because sooner or later, the drugs dehumanize you, and you’re worse off than when you started.
It’s better to bleed than not to feel.
Of course, you can try telling me that the next time I’m getting shot at. It’s kind of funny how deep and philosophical people can get when they’re fine, but when their lives are in immediate danger, they abandon the deep, dark, brooding crap, and jump ship for a weapon that might actually solve the problem of people trying to kill you.
And people trying to kill you is how you end up sitting at a bus stop in the trashiest part of the already trashy Iram City, looking like you got hit by a bus while carrying a loaded gun and shot yourself in the shoulder.
Which, incidentally, is where I was, clutching my shoulder and waiting for the stupid bus to show up.
Which, incidentally, it wasn’t going to do for another twenty minutes, because this was Iram City, and since it is so trashy, all the buses are always twenty minutes late.
I watched with dull interest as a little kid- he looked to maybe be eight, maybe seven or eight years younger than me-picked through a garbage can and pulled out a half-eaten hamburger, waving it around like it was a goddamn Oscar.
Stupid kid.
I touched my left shoulder slightly, wrinkling my nose at it. The freaking bullet had ripped a hole straight through my favorite black military style jacket, which pissed me off more than anything. From what I could tell, it had missed bone, which on a good day I would add to the pro side, but the whole late bus/crap beaten out of me kind of tended to turn me into a bit of a cynical bitch.
“You’re bleeding.”
Forcing myself not to immediately lash out (the speaker could have a bigger gun than me), I turned to face a teenage boy who, in all honesty, looked only marginally better than me, gunshot not withstanding. His hair looked like it should have been blonde, but was a dingy brownish-grey color, but his bright green eyes sparkled out, unimpeded, from a dirt-covered face. Wearing nothing but a black t-shirt, baggy black jeans, and black high-top sneakers, all three caked with dirt and mud, he managed to look entirely too happy.
“Thank you for that brilliant piece of insight into my physical well-being. Would you care to give me any more advice?” I bit back, glaring at him.
“Well, that bruise on your cheekbone looks pretty bad.”
“Let me make that just a little clearer for you. You can leave now, or I can strangle you, and you can exit into the Great Beyond,” I said, waving my right arm around dramatically.
“Are you always so mean, or just when you’ve got a gunshot wound?” he asked, sitting down next to me on the bench without asking my permission.
“Do you always come up to complete strangers with gunshot wounds and start making stupid comments?” I countered, cocking my head to one side and eying him.
“Who shot you?”
“I’m pretty close to being the one who shot you,” I retorted.
“I’m Myles,” he said, still insufferably cheerful.
“I’m wishing that you’d go away,” I growled.
We sat in silence for a moment, watching that stupid little boy go to town on that half-eaten burger, before I caved.
“I’m Theia,” I grumbled reluctantly.
“Are you waiting for the bus?” he asked softly, his gaze straying to my shoulder.
“No, I’m sitting here with my gunshot wound waiting to bleed out and die,” I snarled. “What do you think?”
“I think that gunshot wound looks pretty bad,” he replied, still staring at the bleeding part of my anatomy.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
“Is that a testament to your character?”
“Is it a testament to your character that you just walked up to a teenage girl with not only a gun, but a gunshot wound, so you know that she’s not opposed to firing said gun?”
“Touche.”
“What teenage boy uses the word ‘touche’?”
“I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t want me here.”
“No, really?”
He smiled at me, a long, slow smile that spread across his face like molasses, cracking the caked-on dirt on his cheeks, and I couldn’t help smile back, if you can call a bitter smirk a smile.
The rasping scream of the bus brakes interrupted our conversation, and he glanced at the nearly dead bus with mild amusement before rising to his feet.
“See you later,” he said, sauntering away from me without a care in the world and for one moment I seriously considered whipping out my gun and shooting him, before the bus driver honked the horn and I stumbled up the bus stairs, ignoring and being ignored.
Blood was still oozing from my shoulder, but slowly enough that I didn’t need to worry about it any further. After further examination, it proved to be nothing more than a graze- something I could deal with easily.
I settled back in the bus seat, glancing around to make sure I didn’t know anyone on the bus. I always sat in the back of the bus so I could see the people getting on- there were a great many people out for my blood, as evidenced by my bleeding shoulder.
The city was grey- it was abandoned by the outside world, and surrounded by a cloud of smog, even though the last factories had been abandoned years ago. Everything was cracked in Iram, too- the sidewalks, the buildings, the thousand skyscrapers that the city was once famous for, but had fallen to ruin. Once, the biggest corporations had claimed the skyscrapers as their headquarters, but they had been abandoned along with Iram. Now, the skyscrapers served only as headquarters for gangs.
There was no color in Iram- not really. People grew grey and cracked along with the city, until Iram became a blight on the country.
No one left Iram, and no one came, either. Of course, the stores that managed to stay open got deliveries, but the truck drivers left as soon as possible, afraid they, too, would fade into the city.
Like me- I had always been a part of the city, breathing with it and living with it. My face was as grey as the crumbling street. It was all I knew.
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catluckey reviewed Version 1 -
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I loved the ending to this installment. Makes you excited for Theia and the fact that cracking and grey was all he knew.
You’ve got witty phrasing, an interesting story and fresh descriptions.
These are what really stood out to me:
...but his bright green eyes sparkled out, unimpeded, from a dirt-covered face.
There was no color in Iram- not really. People grew grey and cracked along with the city, until Iram became a blight on the country…My face was as grey as the crumbling street.
I seriously considered whipping out my gun and shooting him, Now that’s so Bruce Willis aka John McClane in Live Free or Die Hard.
I enjoyed the encounter with the boy. And the dialog and inner dialog is so natural, who wouldn’t want to shoot the boy. hehehe. It was only a passing thought and very forgivable. You’ve given a great show of character in Theia and the boy.
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BluPhoenix28 reviewed Version 1 -
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This 368 word review has not been unlocked.
slbynum3 reviewed Version 1 -
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I like the way this story is shaping up. The setting is well told and the character has a distinct personality, however bitter they may be. I like Theia. You should explain why so many people are out for her blood soon.
“Physical pain is so much easier to block than the kind of torture that happens in your mind and heart” – love this line, it’s so true.
“That kind of pain is impossible not feel” – a word is missing here, maybe the word ‘to’.
“and I couldn’t help smile back” – ‘but’ should go between ‘help’ and ‘smile’
You have a lot of hyphens in the story. You could get rid of a lot of them by just ending the sentence before it with a period and beginning a new one with the next sentence, or just connecting the two sentences.
Overall, this beginning caught my attention. I wanted to know more about Theia and her situation. Kudos!
Betty13 reviewed Version 1 -
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“I watched with a dullED interest…and then it gets awkward. Maybe just saying ‘a boy, maybe seven years younger picked a half-eaten…” would smooth it out a bit.
“But the late bus only intensified the I just got the crap beaten outta me...
italics would help the reader see it the way you are trying to say it. Does that make sense?
More detail about he bus stop, the surroundings, her favorite jacket. If she droned on about the loss of such a possession the reader could get a clearer view of the world through her eyes.
The story is effective in that I feel horrified that there are kids really actually living this life. Maybe not the cavalier attitude toward getting shot, but certainly the mentality that they have no other way they can to live. Ouch.
I think it could be intriguing if you fleshed it out with details.
Sci-fi? This is reality for some people.
Good luck
JaneLloyd reviewed Version 1 -
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Watch your use of “pain” in the first couple of paragraphs, it begins to become repetitious. Try maybe agony or other such words.
and since it is so trashy, all the buses are always twenty
“and since it is so trashy” somehow seems a bit trite, if you remove that I think the rest of the sentence works well.
“What teenage boy uses the word ‘touche’?”
I think just because you’re established twice that they’re both teenagers, I would remove the “teenage” and just use boy maybe but it’s just a suggestion.
I think this is a great voice that you’re telling the story with. It’s, I guess we’d call it, vernacular but it really works the way you’ve written it. This piece is short and sweet and gives us just enough to intrigue us but not enough to overbear us. Great job, it shows talent and makes us want to know where this is going.
InvariablyDark reviewed Version 1 -
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I really love the sarcastic picture you paint of the protagonist. The dialog is very good and punchy. The imagery is good enough, but could be a little more descriptive.
There are some minor typos, nothing major. You could use some paragraph breaks in the right places.
One line that bothered me is the following:
“Which, incidentally, is where I was, clutching my shoulder and waiting for the stupid bus to show up.
Which, incidentally, it wasn’t going to do for another twenty minutes, because this was Iram City, and since it is so trashy, all the buses are always twenty minutes late.”
Maybe you meant it to be this way the “Which, incidentally” repeated—we are in someone’s head after all. It still bothers me though to see something repeated like that so close together, but it’s a minor critique.
The only other thing I can offer is how the protagonist, Theia, could possibly be hiding the pain so well—- being shot in the arm has go to hurt, I don’t care how tough you are!
I would suggest some more references to the pain in the middle of her dialog with the boy—- maybe some more sarcastic lines thrown in… comparing talking with the boy to the pain she was trying to hide, or something like that.
I like the work… and the setting. Keep it up.
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