Hello, my chime and welcome back to Diary of a Bipolar Pixie, where I, the slightly crazed Pixie, write, rant, and get really fucking weird in this anonymous space on the internet.
It’s been some time for me since I’ve written anything worth writing about, that didn’t have anything to do with school assignments. Because of this, I’ve lost some interest in some of the topics I’ve already written about or started series about, so I will be taking the time I feel necessary to write the fantasy scene and series I’ve been thinking about for a while. I’ve just finished my spring semester, and expect to have some more time to devote to this blog. However, given my history, I don’t think any of you should be holding your breath for another post. Okay thanks.
Where Rivers Meet- Chapter 1
(That’s not gonna be the full title, I just can’t think of a better one right now)
My heart raced and my lungs burned for oxygen. The blindfold over my eyes kept me from seeing where I was going and I tripped. The bindings or rope securing my hands behind my back kept me from catching myself, and I smashed my face into the ground. Two sets of hands, probably the same hands that dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night and did this to me, picked me up off the ground and set me back on my bare feet. I felt my nose running rapidly into my mouth and the nasty copper taste made me realize my nose was bleeding.
I never imagined this would happen to me. Growing up I heard stories of people, young adults between 20 and 25 who were taken in the night after their neighbors reported them. My own parents reported a number of people, ruining those people’s lives. I swore I’d never be a reporter.
The gruff calloused hands pulled me to a sudden halt. I wanted to ask questions, but knew the situation didn’t allow for it, so I kept my mouth tightly shut.
A quiet rumble approached, then stopped in front of us. My stomach dropped, but before I could act, I was shoved forward, my knees and the side of my face hitting metal, and the creaky door slid shut behind me.
The vehicle sped off, then quickly spun in multiple circles, causing me to lose track of what direction we were going right away. The van, I assumed, also made sharp unexpected turns that caused me to roll from one side to the other.
I wondered to myself why someone reported me. I thought I lived a very normal life. I woke up at the same time every day, went to a normal eight to five job, and then I went home to my normal one bedroom apartment and ate my dinner, watched Netflix, and went to bed at the same time every night.
Then I remembered my last day off. I went to walk by the river, which was totally normal for me. What wasn’t normal were the turtles that kept following me. One even let me run my fingers over it’s green-black shell. I remembered as a child turtles swam away from people pretty fast, but not those one, not with me. I didn’t think anyone saw, but I must’ve been wrong, and it cost me a lot.
My parents once reported a man who had a big beautiful garden too early in the year, when everyone else only had little sprouts. I was up late that night reading when I heard him yelling. I peaked out my window to see four men pulling him out of his house while he fought and kicked. Then my mother came into my room, closed my curtains, and dragged me to her room on the other side of the house. He returned home a week later, obviously terrified of whatever he experienced. The real terror, however, occurred the next day when someone destroyed his garden and wrote something on his car, something my mom wouldn’t let me read. The man moved only a month later.
Hours passed agonizingly slowly. We stopped only a few short times, but they never untied me. At one point I had to pee so bad I thought my bladder would explode. I voiced this to my captors but received no answer. I ended up wetting myself right where I was.
They didn’t give me anything to eat or drink, and after way too long in that stupid van, exhaustion took over and I passed out. I remember having a strange dream, but only in pieces. There were mermaids, mist, someone falling, or maybe flying? There were also bubbles, but I couldn’t recall where they came into the dream.
I woke up confused and worried. I couldn’t remember where I was, or what happened, and the room I was in didn’t help much. It was plain with only a bed, sink, toilet and a mirror. No window, and the door had bars over the upper half.
Wait, what? I thought, staring at the door.
That’s when I remembered everything that happened. I stood up so fast my head spun and dark spots covered my vision. My stomach twisted in pain and my dry, sandpaper tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My own breathing hurt my dry, itchy throat, so I stuck my head under the sink faucet and turned it on, not even caring for the quality of the water that came out. The crisp refreshing water slid down my throat, easing all the pain and itching that tormented me.
After I had my fill, I looked in the mirror, and discovered the horrid state I was in. Dried blood coated my face and neck and stained my grey pajama tank top. My pajama shorts smelled awful and had a discernible large dark stain on the crotch. I sighed heavily and worked on cleaning myself up a bit, just to make myself feel better.
Then I mustered my courage to check out my surroundings. I tried the door first. It was locked, as I expected, so I stood on my toes to try to see outside. All I saw was a hallway, and as far as I could see, there were doors just like mine.
“Hello?” I called tentatively, not really expecting an answer.
A dark skinned boy appeared in the door across the hall with a finger to his lips.
“Shh,” he hushed, “or you’ll get in trouble.”
“Where are we?” I whispered to him.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“Then, do you know why they brought us here?”
He shook his head sadly.
“All I know is they bring bread and cheese three times a day, and they’ve been whispering about some kind of test we have to take. I don’t know what it is, or when we take it so you best get comfortable, you might be here a while.”
I sighed and sat down, very uncomfortably, on the bed. I hoped they would bring the food by soon, I was starving.
I passed my time quietly staring at the wall, thinking. I thought about when I was younger and my parents took me to the beach at the lake for the first time. There was a crystal clear, beautiful lake about forty-five miles from our home that my parents used to visit on summer weekends with their friends. I was twelve on my first trip, and I spent most of my time either swimming, or sitting right at the water’s edge. I loved the clean smell of the air, the cooling feeling on my toes. I missed the lake, and suddenly found myself thinking about going back to dip my toes in the water again.
Banging on my door brought me back to the room, and I looked up to see a blonde man staring in at me. I stood and approached him cautiously, hoping he had food with him. He handed me a few slices of bread and three sticks of string cheese. I was surprised when he also handed me several slices of deli meat and clothes.
“What’s going on?” I asked him.
“Eat fast, and change, you’re being moved,” he responded curtly.
“Moved where?” I questioned.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his back to my door and stood waiting. I peaked over his shoulder as much as I could and saw two more men and a woman farther down the hall.
I devoured the food graciously, thankful for anything in my stomach and then quickly took off my soiled dirty clothes and changed. The outfit they gave me consisted of a black sports bra that somehow perfectly fit, a pair of form fitting black pants made of a breathable, smooth material, but it wasn’t one I was familiar with, and a black form fitting, long sleeve top of the same material. It reminded me of wetsuits that I’d seen on tv, minus being a two piece outfit and the fact that I couldn’t be sure if it was the same material.
I let the guard know I was dressed and he let me out of my cell. The dark man in the other room was already in the hallway, along with many other people, and we were all dressed in essentially the same form fitting clothing, the guys’ clothes a tad looser however. I counted only two women, including myself, compared to the eight men.
I contemplated the success of a group revolt, but quickly squashed the idea. Something about the seven guards in the hall made me uneasy. They were all dressed in basic navy blue clothes, but they weren’t wearing any forms of protection. It was like they didn’t think we would fight them, or they thought if we did, we weren’t going to hurt them. The other thing that bothered me, they didn’t carry any weapons. I think that part scared me the most.
When we were all assembled outside our rooms, the guard at the end of the hall began walking, the guard that stood next in line pushed the captives in front of him to follow, and a precession of captors and their captive ensued. As we walked from our little hallway into what I assumed was the main hallway, we were joined by others exiting from their own hallways. Many of them looked tired and sickly. Their faces were shallow, their hair dirty and greasy, and their eyes looked around at us wildly. I suddenly realized they must have been there a lot longer than the people in our hallway. My guess, they’d been there for weeks. In the end, there must have been about fifty of us
We filed out of the building and into vans lined up in the lot. I also realized why we weren’t allowed shoes. Beyond the smoothly paved lot was a dense forest overgrown with all sorts of plants. The “road” that led into the lot was almost nonexistent. It looked as if cars drove over the road maybe once a year, so the rest of the year, weeds and shrubs grew in the tire ruts. Anyone who dared to run would find themselves with cut and damaged feet, and would probably be caught in no time.
Once we were loaded, the guards took their places in the front seats of the van and drove us straight into the woods. This path was barely visible, less traveled than the road up to the lot. The path they traveled seemed to be going up, so I took a quick peek through the windshield and through the trees. As I expected, I could see a mountain top peaking over the trees. Based on our direction, we were planning on either heading straight up the summit, or my guess, through it.
Turns out, I was kinda right. We changed direction at the last moment and drove into a narrow tunnel. I flinched, along with several other people, afraid the vans wouldn’t fit, but they did and we continued deeper into the tunnel. I wasn’t claustrophobic in the least, but this whole process put me on edge and I wanted nothing more than to be out in the open. Some of the ten people stuffed in the back of the van also seemed uncomfortable, and one girl’s breathing increased to the point of full panic, until she was heaving violently. The guards didn’t even turn around.
Finally, the tunnel opened up into a giant cavern, where the guards stopped the vans and let us out. The rocky ground stabbed at my feet and it took everything inside of me not to hop from foot to foot or crawl back up in the van. Then the guards forced us slowly through a smaller tunnel, single file. I appreciated the slow pace because of the rough ground, but it didn’t make the short walk any easier.
After all that traveling, after being kidnapped and held against our wills, forcefully moved into a mountain, and made to walk across the roughest ground I’d ever traversed, we’d arrived at our destination, yet another cave, but this one was filled with hundred shoes, all the same kind, black tightly fitting boots meant as the last article for our uniforms, of varying sizes. At the opposite end of the tunnel we just exited were four other tunnels, each with a different banner hanging over them. From left to right, there was a yellow banner with little swirling lines, a red banner with flames, a blue banner with wave lines, and a green banner with a leaf. In front of each tunnel stood a guard, but they looked different from the ones that brought us in. They had similarly styled clothes, but the colors of their clothes matched the colors of the banners over them.
A loud clap caught our attention and we all looked for the source of the sound. A man stood on a rock formation between the red and blue bannered tunnels. He was dressed in white, which stood out from the dark rock, but I didn’t remember seeing him until he clapped. We all waited with baited breath for what he might say.
“Good day, everyone, and thank you for joining us for this momentous occasion.”
I stared at the man in disbelief. How the hell could he be thanking us.
“I understand that you weren’t expecting this, you didn’t sign up for this, and you probably really don’t want to be here, so I want you to know that I and every other specialist here greatly appreciates your continued cooperation with us.
“Now, onto the really important matters. Before you are shoes. I assure you there is a pair to perfectly fit each of you. These shoes are important for the next step in your journey, choosing a path. You see, all we want you to do is get to the finish line, about ten miles west of here. That may seem like a long journey, but if you do it right, it won’t take too long, a day at most. The path there is not exactly straight forward and some of you might find a certain path easier than the others, but that’s for you to decide. You have until the end of the day to begin your journey and until the end of tomorrow to finish it. I wish you the best of luck.”
The man stepped off his rock pedestal and walked casually down the red tunnel.
We stood frozen in our places. I was scared out of my mind, unsure of what to do next. Then one person stepped forward and claimed their shoes, then another, then another. Soon we were all following their lead, finding a pair of shoes that fit us. Then several people started towards the tunnels. I, along with many others, watched to see which ones they would take. They all chose the green tunnel and disappeared down the path. Another small group made their way toward the yellow, several more toward the green again, some toward the red, but not a single one towards blue. I had this strong urge to take that path and started towards it. I was joined by five boys and another girl. For some reason I felt this would be all of us, and I didn’t think we were all going to make it.
Thank you for reading!! If interested in a second chapter, please let me know, as I am deeply in love with this story line right now. I do hope you enjoyed what you read, and that you’ll subscribe, share, and comment if the desire does find you. If you have any questions, compliments, concerns, or compliments, you can reach me through my many social medias (which are still all available if just not very active).
I hope your days are fulfilling, and your nights calming. Fly high, my chime, and I hope to be back with you soon!
Diary of a Bipolar Pixie 