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I'm Thyrene. I have no idea if it's a ligitimet (sp?) name becuase I named myself. I have never met anybody with the same name, but, then again, I have met very few people.
No, my parents haven't kept me locked away.
No, I'm not a shy girl.
No, my parents didn't die and I am not an orphan.
I am illegal simply becuase I was born. My parents dumped me off in a back alley when I was old enough to roughly take care of myself, by myself. Where I live is a planet where you can have two children, no more than that. I was the third child, and I am hunted down by 'pup wranglers' every minute of my life.
Actually, the real name for those evil men (and sometimes women) is, "The Imperial Soldiers of Population Control," but that a mouth full so to us thirds (sometimes fourths or even sixths) they're pup wrangler's.
We hide from TISPC in the back alley's and the underground tunnels that we dig ourselves. Sometimes we meet other thirds but we rarely talk to eachother becuase, well, let's just say that sometimes we're no better than the pup wranglers.
I do have one friend, and his name is Cadmoc. He's a 'ridiculus number' which would mean he's a seventh or above. He doesn't know who his third, fourth, fifth or sixth siblings are, or for that matter his first or second. But, most of us don't know our olders.
I write this from one of the deepest tunnels in the city in hopes that, when I am dead, someone will find this and relieve the cruelty of thirds and lowers. Most likely it will be burnt along with my wretched body when discovered.
submitted by Thyrene, age 12, Planet Guanite
(February 3, 2011 - 2:19 pm)
(February 3, 2011 - 2:19 pm)
Being a third child must be hard. Being a ridiculous number is harder. All I know is that I'm the eighth child. And that's just because of my necklace in the shape of an 8. At least, I think it's an eight. I never learned to count. Every day I have to eat food from the forest, which is luckily nearby. I named myself fter an animal that supposedly lives in the forest, the Blue Crow. It's supposed to give you good luck. I need that luck.
(February 3, 2011 - 4:07 pm)
Top.
(February 3, 2011 - 6:06 pm)
Cadmoc and I met today. He was busy munching on a stale loaf of bread he found from goodness knows where. He shared a bit with me and then we set off in nowhere in particular, the only goal in our heads to stay away from the pup wranglers.
As we walked, we said nothing, silence is best when roaming the streets of 163972. The pup wranglers are everywhere, disqguised as anything from the emporer to a beggar. Actually, most of the beggars in town were desperate thirds or lower. Most got arrested.
As we crept in the back streets, we heard a sound behind us, we turned to see who or what it was. Seeing nothing, we proceeded, but with much more awareness.
Again, we heard th sound.
"Cadmoc," I whispered through my hoarse throat, "we got to get out of here."
"I know," he breathed back.
We set off at a quicker pace. An arrow shot past us, I felt the wind whiz past me.
"RUN!" Cadmoc shouted at me. We both began to tear down the street at a breahttaking speed, arrows shot past us and we heard two pup wranglers on our trail.
"We can't reveal the tunnels," Cadmoc said.
"Where can we go," I was beginning to have trouble keeping up with my friend's long legs, and I could only see his long black hair waving against his backside.
"I don't know."
I had oftened wondered what happened to the Thirds when captured. If they were tortured to death, or just kept for the use of the dungeons (as far as I knew, there was no one in there), or simply killed. Perhaps it mattered on the number you were, if I would recieve less punishment than Cadmoc.
An arrow caught Cadmoc in the shoulder. He yelped with pain but kept running. Gradually he slowed down, the loss of blood preventing his neckbreak speed. The soldiers cuaght up to us, and everything went black....
(February 4, 2011 - 1:18 pm)