Hi!! This was an assignment that was given to me recently in school, and I wanted to see what all you guys thought. It was a bit rushed towards the end, because it was a school assignment and it needed to be passed in. So, it didn't turn out exactly as I planned, and I haven't been able to reread it or perform any changes since I passed it in the other day. But I wanted to see if it was worth it to continue on. If you have anything to say, you can tell me in the comments. But, PLEASE don't give me grammer problems. Only tell me about the story and if you think I should continue it. Thanks!!!
The sun shone brilliantly in the indigo sky. He could feel its warmth on the back of his neck as he strode along; it was comforting and warmed his entire body. The chilly wind blew past him as the sun started to set. The wind tore through the air, and it was felt through his clothes. It whistled in his ears as he focused on the crisp taste it had. It was entirely pure, and his lungs thanked him with every inward breath. The sweet smell engulfed him, and it was times like these that Jared wished the encampments rules didn't require to wear only black attire and that the only place on the entire encampment with any greenery was the library grounds. His feet were solid on the hard ground as he traveled back to his room, and he could hear the quiet crunch of the grass underneath his feet. His hair stood out without the need for any product, and it was becoming long. His eyes were the one item that stood out from all of the usual black and plainness that covered the grounds. They flared vividly, a bright green, almost neon color. He was, of course, shunned for them; but his raven hair always made up for it. In the encampments, color was not usually allowed. The encampments are used for all children, once they turn seven. Once a child turns seven, they are sent to a "school", where they are trained for the ongoing war. They say that they found this method from the ancient Spartans, but the method was lost, until retrieved again only eighty seven years earlier.
He passed the school yard, and ventured into the moldy smelling library. When you ever dared to step inside, you could taste the strong age of the library through its steady walls. It was the only quiet place that he could ever find, and the only sound was the quiet turning of pages as the librarian, quiet, aged, and irritable, read at her desk. The librarian, a retired nurse, never moved from her spot during the day other than to search for a new book, or to go to the bathroom. She smelled of soap and paper, for she never left the library. She even slept there, with her living courters being inside of it. It was the biggest building in the campus, yet it was seldom used. Only few bothered with academics in this school; it was mostly based on brute force and the will to continue fighting, even if you no longer know what you are fighting for.
As he ambled past the vast row of bookshelves, he came upon a girl who had fallen asleep while reading in the aisle. Her long, red hair sat on her face like flames. He could hear the softness of her breathing, slowly moving in and out. She lay, sprawled erratically on the soft, carpeted floor. A sweet smell filled his lungs, as he realized that it rose from the figure on the ground. It seemed to be roses; a smell he had not often experienced in his life in the encampment. He could nearly taste the red aroma of the dangerous flower. Jared had seen her here before, but had never made contact with her because, well, not even he knew why. He rarely spoke to anyone unless it was necessary, and yet, it rarely was. It was not that he didn't have words to say, it was merely that he would rather not waste his breath on someone who didn't deserve it, and at this school, it seemed that no one did. So, he walked pass the girl, reaching above her for the novel he was in the middle of. She was lying down a bit unevenly, and it was difficult to reach over her and up the foot and a half above his head. He balanced on the tip of his toes and reached, but couldn't quite grasp it. So, he stood there, switching from staring at the girl, and the book that he wanted to read desperately.
At that point, she started to rustle, and he backed away, so that she would not notice that he had been standing over her and staring. She did not wake, only shifted, and now it seemed even more impossible for him to reach the book. He sighed, and began to walk away, when he notices the air smelled strange.
A thick smell engulfed the air, and soon Jared realized that it was the stench of smoke. He could taste the black thickness as it filled its lungs, coughed when it seemed to stay there. He had only been in one fire in his lifetime, and that was the time when the parents rebelled. They had been done with losing their children to society and the raging war. They had spent the best years of their lives fighting what has been raging before they were born. Why should their families suffer as they have? Unfortunately, the only people who thought this to be the right way to receive what they aimed for was Jared's little town of Therma, and the short boycott was stopped within a matter of five days. All parents in the town lost their lives, and many children were either sent earlier to the encampments, or were also killed. Only the children of the age seven were spared, except for Jared. Jared, the youngest child to be sent to be trained in an encampment, at the age of five, could still remember the day he was sent as if it were yesterday. Smoke filled the already dark midnight sky. He could hear the screams of the still fighting parents desperately trying to save their children, with no prevail. All those who fought were killed in a massacre, and the whole town of Therma was burned to a crisp. Jared had been stolen along with the other seven year olds, thought to also be seven. So, he started two years early, and was held back those two years in the same age group so that he would be in the right age group. Ever since that moment, Jared has lived at the encampment, and wanted to escape. He could not count the many times he has tried, but never prevailed. His one wish was to escape.
And this would be his chance.
He was thinking of all the ways to escape, when he whipped his head around. The girl.
She still lay there, fast asleep. Jared could leave her there, either to wake and escape, or die. He was about to leave when she stirred a little, but again, did not wake.
He couldn't do it.
He ran to her and shook her vigorously to wake her up, but she still did not wake. That was when he finally noticed the faint scent of Darien, a thick drug, used to make its victims become completely unconscious for hours at a time. Just his luck, the upperclassmen thought it funny to drug the bookworm girl, who could easily beat them black and blue, if she had a chance. They always ignored her and made fun of her behind her back, because she could easily break them if it were in front of her face. She liked to read, and was always nose-deep in a book, but no one ever spoke a word against it because she was still one of the top students in her age group. They must have drugged her, as a joke. Well, it wasn't very funny to Jared at the moment.
He wrapped his arms around the bend in her knees, and the crook of her neck. Her hair dangled from her head, and when it brushed his arm, he could feel the soft mass tickling his body. He lifted her, and quickly made it to the back corner of the library. The smoke became thicker, and he had to cough if he did not block his mouth to breath. He flung her over his right shoulder, and became to climb the bookshelves. As he reached the top, some of them began to crumble under his feet, and he knew he had to hurry. As he finally reached the top, he laid her down, and picked up the heaviest book he could find. It was leather bound and soft to the touch. He pounded it against the glass, over and over again. Soon there became a crack, and with one heavier blow, the glass shattered, spilling everywhere. It cut and tore at his clothes and face, and he threw himself on the girl as to protect her from it. Irony blood filled his mouth as a piece of glass cut at his lip. As it had all fallen, he rose, picked her up again, and turned to the window. Hyperventilating heavily, and shaking uncontrollably, he jumped. He landed in an icy river, chilling him and her to the bone. He grabbed at her waist, and dragged them both to the other side of the river, pulling them both up onto the bank. Mind racing, eyes overly blinking, he lay there, staring at the sky. The siren of the emergency help coming to extinguish the fire rang through his ears.
He had broken out of the encampment; and he had brought someone with him.
So, that was it. I don't know if I'm going to continue it, because it may be a waste of my time. Feel free to leave notes in the comments, and tell me if I should go on.