Post by Loppiainen on Nov 21, 2011 12:53:58 GMT -5
Sometimes I write things and I just don't know where they come from.
Seriously, just call me Mr. Alternate-Universe-Fics.
...No, no. Nevermind.
Ummm. This takes place in a sort of world where psychics exist, and there's different sub-species of them, and Ireland and Britain have all of these laws against psychics existing...
It's all really strange. Basically, if you have any questions concerning the plot, feel free to ask.
Oh, and the tenses are really weird because it's a diary entry. Sorry if it's confusing. :\
----------
9 June, 2022
I miss my mam.
The Officers got her before she could board the train. Before they took her away, she told me that she loved me, and that the train would take me somewhere safe.
I managed to grab some of her luggage before I retreated into the train. Inside one of the bags was this typewriter, with which I've decided to document my days spent traveling from Derry to Eden.
An attendant helped me find the sleeper car that's marked on my train ticket, Sleeper #14. He told me that because I'm traveling alone, I have to share a sleeper.
At first, I was not pleased, but I was told then that the boy I'm sharing with is around my age. Knowing that I'm not sharing with some middle-aged woman calmed me down a bit.
I spent the next half an hour exploring the sleeper. There's a bunk bed. Or, at least, there's two bed-like slabs of wood jutting out of the wall- one a few feet above the other- with mattresses and bed covers on top of them (by now, I know that they're actually very comfortable. But at the time, they looked terribly stiff).
The sleeper's bathroom, located in the corner of the car across from the beds, is a sort of outhouse type thing, except wider. Inside, there's a toilet on one side, and a showerhead on the other. In between both, there's a sink.
In the middle of my exploring, a bell sounded overhead, and a voice over the loudspeakers announced that dinner would soon be served.
Another attendant lead me to one of the dining cars, and explained to me that, once again, because I was alone, that I would be seated with a few of the other passengers.
The people I sat with were nice enough- two men, and a boy that looked to be a few years younger than myself (probably eleven or twelve. I'm currently fifteen).
"So, what're you doin' goin' to Eden?" The boy asked after each of them had greeted me.
"I'm a psychic," I replied.
"Of course you are," Said one of the men- an off-black haired one with a rough voice. "Everyone on the train is. What sort, he means."
"Oh," I said, embarrassed by the misunderstanding. "I'm an-"
Before I was able to answer, the other man- a taller roman-nosed one- interrupted.
"He's an empath."
Everyone stared at him.
"Oh. I'm sorry, did I say that out loud?" He asked. "My mistake. I do that, sometimes."
The black-haired man glared at him.
"Yeah... Paul's a telepath," He explained to me. "He's also the only person I know that can accidentally read thoughts."
The younger boy nodded. "It's a bit of a problem."
"True, but the things I learn about people make for great blackmail," Paul grinned.
Over dinner, I learned a lot about these people. The boy's name is Daniel. He's a pathfinder; someone who can track the location of others. His parents, like mine, had been taken by the Officers, so he had also boarded alone.
The black-haired man, Ryan, is a medium, meaning that he can contact the dead (which is pretty brilliant, I'd say). He said he'd been able to keep it a secret for a while, but as soon as someone found out, he was evicted from his flat.
Paul, the telepath, had been adopted and raised by human parents, who were forced to disown him when it was discovered that he was a Psychic. He'd been living on his own for a while prior to boarding the train when it had arrived in Dublin.
Now, I didn't just sit there silently listening to their life stories. No, I told them all about myself, as well. I told them how my mother and father were both empaths, and how they had been arrested while I was able to escape unharmed. I told them things that I wouldn't normally tell anyone. But I did, because I felt safe. I knew that there weren't any humans that could hear me. I knew that I could trust these people.
When dinner had been finished, we each said our goodbyes, and headed back to our sleepers.
This time, the boy I shared my sleeper with was present. He sat on the bottom bunk, his blanket thrown haphazardly to the side.
"Hello," I greeted him.
He simply nodded at me in response.
"My name's Damian," I said. "What's yours?"
"Cameron," The boy murmured. "Cameron Mitchell."
It was at this point that I noticed what's strange about this boy. He speaks with an accent. It isn't one from nearby; not Dublin like Paul's, not Derry like mine. Not even any sort of English.
No, Cameron Mitchell is American.
"You're not Irish," I said.
"No. American," Cameron shook his head.
"What are you doing here, then?" I asked.
Hesitantly, he explained to me that he and his family were on holiday in Belfast. It had somehow gotten out that they were Psychics, and they had been promptly arrested. Cameron was the only one who had been able to get away from the Officers.
"I knew about the train," Cameron said. "My mom told me where it was, in case we were ever caught, and... I guess that knowledge came in handy, huh?"
I nodded, feeling horrible for the other boy. Here he was, on the run from the whole country, when he could have been elsewhere- safe and sound in his American home.
He sighed.
"It's late," He said. "I'm gonna get to sleep."
"Me too. See ya in the mornin', then," I replied.
"Night."
"G'night."
With that, Cameron lied down on the bunk, and pulled the carelessly place blanket over himself, while I located my mam's typewriter, and brought it up to the top bunk with me.
And here I am, finishing up the recounting of today's events. According the the wall-clock on the wall opposite from me, it's currently 11:17. I think it's about time I called it a day, too.
Seriously, just call me Mr. Alternate-Universe-Fics.
...No, no. Nevermind.
Ummm. This takes place in a sort of world where psychics exist, and there's different sub-species of them, and Ireland and Britain have all of these laws against psychics existing...
It's all really strange. Basically, if you have any questions concerning the plot, feel free to ask.
Oh, and the tenses are really weird because it's a diary entry. Sorry if it's confusing. :\
----------
9 June, 2022
I miss my mam.
The Officers got her before she could board the train. Before they took her away, she told me that she loved me, and that the train would take me somewhere safe.
I managed to grab some of her luggage before I retreated into the train. Inside one of the bags was this typewriter, with which I've decided to document my days spent traveling from Derry to Eden.
***
An attendant helped me find the sleeper car that's marked on my train ticket, Sleeper #14. He told me that because I'm traveling alone, I have to share a sleeper.
At first, I was not pleased, but I was told then that the boy I'm sharing with is around my age. Knowing that I'm not sharing with some middle-aged woman calmed me down a bit.
I spent the next half an hour exploring the sleeper. There's a bunk bed. Or, at least, there's two bed-like slabs of wood jutting out of the wall- one a few feet above the other- with mattresses and bed covers on top of them (by now, I know that they're actually very comfortable. But at the time, they looked terribly stiff).
The sleeper's bathroom, located in the corner of the car across from the beds, is a sort of outhouse type thing, except wider. Inside, there's a toilet on one side, and a showerhead on the other. In between both, there's a sink.
In the middle of my exploring, a bell sounded overhead, and a voice over the loudspeakers announced that dinner would soon be served.
***
Another attendant lead me to one of the dining cars, and explained to me that, once again, because I was alone, that I would be seated with a few of the other passengers.
The people I sat with were nice enough- two men, and a boy that looked to be a few years younger than myself (probably eleven or twelve. I'm currently fifteen).
"So, what're you doin' goin' to Eden?" The boy asked after each of them had greeted me.
"I'm a psychic," I replied.
"Of course you are," Said one of the men- an off-black haired one with a rough voice. "Everyone on the train is. What sort, he means."
"Oh," I said, embarrassed by the misunderstanding. "I'm an-"
Before I was able to answer, the other man- a taller roman-nosed one- interrupted.
"He's an empath."
Everyone stared at him.
"Oh. I'm sorry, did I say that out loud?" He asked. "My mistake. I do that, sometimes."
The black-haired man glared at him.
"Yeah... Paul's a telepath," He explained to me. "He's also the only person I know that can accidentally read thoughts."
The younger boy nodded. "It's a bit of a problem."
"True, but the things I learn about people make for great blackmail," Paul grinned.
***
Over dinner, I learned a lot about these people. The boy's name is Daniel. He's a pathfinder; someone who can track the location of others. His parents, like mine, had been taken by the Officers, so he had also boarded alone.
The black-haired man, Ryan, is a medium, meaning that he can contact the dead (which is pretty brilliant, I'd say). He said he'd been able to keep it a secret for a while, but as soon as someone found out, he was evicted from his flat.
Paul, the telepath, had been adopted and raised by human parents, who were forced to disown him when it was discovered that he was a Psychic. He'd been living on his own for a while prior to boarding the train when it had arrived in Dublin.
Now, I didn't just sit there silently listening to their life stories. No, I told them all about myself, as well. I told them how my mother and father were both empaths, and how they had been arrested while I was able to escape unharmed. I told them things that I wouldn't normally tell anyone. But I did, because I felt safe. I knew that there weren't any humans that could hear me. I knew that I could trust these people.
***
When dinner had been finished, we each said our goodbyes, and headed back to our sleepers.
This time, the boy I shared my sleeper with was present. He sat on the bottom bunk, his blanket thrown haphazardly to the side.
"Hello," I greeted him.
He simply nodded at me in response.
"My name's Damian," I said. "What's yours?"
"Cameron," The boy murmured. "Cameron Mitchell."
It was at this point that I noticed what's strange about this boy. He speaks with an accent. It isn't one from nearby; not Dublin like Paul's, not Derry like mine. Not even any sort of English.
No, Cameron Mitchell is American.
"You're not Irish," I said.
"No. American," Cameron shook his head.
"What are you doing here, then?" I asked.
Hesitantly, he explained to me that he and his family were on holiday in Belfast. It had somehow gotten out that they were Psychics, and they had been promptly arrested. Cameron was the only one who had been able to get away from the Officers.
"I knew about the train," Cameron said. "My mom told me where it was, in case we were ever caught, and... I guess that knowledge came in handy, huh?"
I nodded, feeling horrible for the other boy. Here he was, on the run from the whole country, when he could have been elsewhere- safe and sound in his American home.
He sighed.
"It's late," He said. "I'm gonna get to sleep."
"Me too. See ya in the mornin', then," I replied.
"Night."
"G'night."
With that, Cameron lied down on the bunk, and pulled the carelessly place blanket over himself, while I located my mam's typewriter, and brought it up to the top bunk with me.
***
And here I am, finishing up the recounting of today's events. According the the wall-clock on the wall opposite from me, it's currently 11:17. I think it's about time I called it a day, too.
Damian McGinty