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Pen Your Pride

The Temper Trap

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Hi guys! This is my first story in god knows how long. I decided to get back into the swing of things after a long, long hiatus. I'm a better writer, and a little more dedicated to my wattpad account than in previous tries at this. I hope you guys like this!
I chose the song "sweet disposition" by The Temper Trap because I feel like it helps with the plot unfolding and describes my protagonist and the love story that is about to unfold. It's about growing up and figuring out life. Anyways... On with the story that will hopefully tear your heart to shreds, make you loose several hour of needed sleep, and be the detriment to the drastic decrease in your grades.
Until next time
Ciao!
~Abby
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There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

- Sara Teasdale, There Will Come Soft Rains

When I woke up in the morning, I half expected to be home. Not the home like everyone wanted, the one we had been looking out the windows of the Ark at for 97 years, but the home as in the one I was born in, the one that my mother and father lived happily in. The home that I was brutally torn away from.

The guards hadn't woken me up yet. I must've been early, which was highly likely. I was usually up before the sun peaked over the eastern front of the planet humanity had destroyed.

That wasn't my humanity.

That was the humanity divided, and a house divided against itself cannot stand.

Much like a house, where the places that needed reparations were failed to be fixed, and the foundations they stood upon showed weakness, our societies crumbled. And much like the albatross we took to the sky, in unity... as one. We orbited about, the green-grey of the uninhabitable solid mass that once held over 7 billion human lifeforms serving as a reminder to us all what happens when we don't play nice.

I stared at it, and I thought long and hard about how something so vibrant and full of life, could be killed with the press of a button.

This is why I like plants more than people.

Our history books always explained in great detail the after-effects of the nuclear warfare that destroyed us. How the silhouettes of full families would be burned to walls, leaving them with nothing. Not even an empty, burned, and lifeless vessel to bury. Their flesh and bone vaporized at an instant. Then came the radiation; children born with morphed, distorted faces and bodies. The smell of burning flesh lingering in the air. Hair fell out in chunks and perfectly healthy people began having seizures.

The infections came last. Plague wiped out the remaining, hanging on by a thread. Grasping the edges of cliffs with fingernails.

All dead and gone.

I rose slowly, the pads of my feet sticking softly to the cold aluminum flooring of my cozy little prison cell. They think that its wrongful to attribute to the mass genocide of youth holding misdemeanor crimes, so they round us up and stick us in a box. The skybox, to be exact.

Here, I didn't have much freedom, but who does when you're living luxuriously in the dark depths of space? There's a whole universe... a whole multitudes of universes that I don't know about... and no one cares to explore them.

I brushed the tips of my fingers along the few plants they let me keep, the smooth, waxy surface of the small thing soothing me.

Quite suddenly, there was a crashing behind me, and a few guards grabbed my arms. Its not like they needed four guards to hold someone of my size, because a) I wasn't very big or strong and b) its not like I was dangerous, much less willing to fight back. I might say they were rather rough in handling me as they threw me down into a pod without explanation and cuffed a band to my wrist. I was one of the last ones on, which was horrible because of the mass amounts of screaming teenagers on this damned thing. Who knows? Maybe the council lowered the age of being able to be floated. Maybe this was the mass genocide they wanted. I looked around a bit, trying to see if there was anyone I knew.

Low and behold there was.

Sweet Disposition: John MurphyRead this story for FREE!