Olzar Falling

I

*****

Thunder cracks, startling me out of my nightmare. I've had the same one every night for a week now. A huge matte black space ship gliding across the galaxy. Flashes of grimy prison cells occupied by strange looking humans and other creatures. Our Supreme Leader, Nebula Kieran, shouting at me, but with no sound.

I finally drag myself off of my bed, a few blankets layered on the chipping concrete. I walk into my main room, slightly larger than my bedroom. I look out the window frame, stepping over the broken glass that had been knocked out of the window. I'm careful not to go too close, or the acid rain will splash on me.  This storm has been going for three days now and I ran out of food yesterday. Well, food is hard to find anyways. I have to walk to the capital, Belea, about ten miles, to get food. Then, I have to sneak into one of the food stores and back out without getting caught.

Now, why don't I live in the capital? Well, it's not my fault. It's because both my parents  were killed, and this is the way they deal with orphans. By shipping them off to the old, destroyed outskirts of what was once known as Los Angeles. I have been surviving on my own for eight years, since I was ten.

I walk over to my table, picking up and cleaning my pistols. I slip one in each side of my belt in holsters. Then I pick up my knifes. I have to walk over to dampen my rag since the knives are so dirty. One of them has a blade about a foot long while the other one is about six inches. I put the longer one in my belt and the shorter one in my right boot.

I grab my bag, stuff in an extra gun, knife, some matches, a few small pieces of wood, and my rag. I put on my jacket then slip my bag over my shoulders. I walk to the stairs and jog down four flights to the bottom. I pull the hood of my jacket up and put my hand in my pockets. The rain is starting to lighten up, but my jacket will protect me until it goes away. Jogging towards the underground pathways, I see a streak of grey to my right.

Oh crap, I think. The government patrollers from the capital sweep the suburbs once a week, looking for anybody living there. Whoever they find is taken back with them and put in prison in Belea. I have no idea why, since some of us didn't even do anything wrong. But that's why I keep my knives and guns.

I spring towards the nearest building, ducking inside. After a few minutes, I see a patroller walk by the building, not seeing me. Whew. So I creep out, trying to walk to the next building, when I see the lone patroller about one hundred feet in front of me, his back tuned towards me. My heart is racing and I can hear it beating in my ears. I tiptoe across the rubble-laiden street, when the patroller turns my way as some of the broken concrete shifts, causing my leg to get stuck in the pile. Our eyes meet and I swallow. I struggle to get my leg free, and with how far in my leg is, I can't get to any of my guns or knives. Well that's pretty useless now, I think.

He walk towards me, drawing his gun. I keep tugging at my leg, but it refuses to budge. He's getting closer, and now that I can see that he is dressed in the standard black patrol uniform. He is probably around my age, since everyone is drafted into jobs when they turn eighteen if they live in Belea. I probably look terrified, but I try to hide it. He finally is next to me and starts to remove the rubble from around my leg. When it's finally off, he helps me pull my leg out. I look down to see a huge gash in my leg and my black athletic leggings are soaked in blood.

"Crap," I say. It hurts so badly, now that it's not being crushed, and I feel like someone is hacking my leg repeatedly with an axe.

"Come on," he orders me, after putting handcuffs on my wrists.

We walk to his flying pod, and he directs me to a seat in the middle. He gets in the drivers seat and we take off. Why didn't he take my weapons? Oh, my jacket is probably concealing them. But shouldn't he have at least checked? I look out the large glass window at the front of the pod as we pass over what used to be a bustling city. I try to imagine what it used to be like. They didn't have flying pods, did they? They're lucky that they didn't have acid rainstorms. Speaking of which, the rain had stopped, but the seemingly endless clouds were still there.

I snap out of my daydreaming as I feel us slowing down and look to see that we are landing. He stands up and I follow him out of the pod. We had landed next to a door to what must be the prison. We enter the building, take a few turns, then are propelled up in one of the elevators. I am led to a section of cells, where they find my profile. I didn't even know that I had one. Then, they scan me for any weapons, which of course, they find, and they set them on the table next to the tablet. Well, it's really just a big piece of glass standing on the table that displays information, and it's more like a computer since it projects a keyboard on the table when needed. The patroller who brought me here walks away and the guard who checked me in walks me to a cell. He places his palm on the metal pad next to the door. After a few seconds, I hear a clicking noise, then the glass door to the cell slides open.

I take in my surroundings. It's large, about fifteen feet by twenty feet, and made completely of metal. On the left wall, there is a round metal button, almost flush with the wall, but not quite. My curiosity getting the better of me, I walk over and press it. A panel slides open, revealing a large cubby with a pillow and fur blanket. The ceiling of the cubby is softly glowing, the only light in the room except for the large window at the end of the room opposite to the door. Under the window, there is a sleek metal table with two matching chairs.

I sit down in one of the chairs and gaze out the window, which overlooks the city. I think of my mom, her smile and her perfect laugh, how she found the good in everything and everyone. I think of my dad, how he was protective, but the loving kind of protective. They were basically perfect. But then, for some reason unknown to me, they were both killed by the government, right in front of my face, when I was ten. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away as I hear a beep at my door, and I look to see a servant girl with a plate of food for me.

"Thank you," I say, though I know that there's no way I'll be able to eat now.

I end up deciding to just go to sleep, so I make my way over to my sleeping cubby. The blanket is surprisingly soft, and when I pull it back, I see that the cubby actually has a cushy mattress and two blankets, not just one. I lay down, sinking into the soft mattress and pulling the soft blankets over me. My head rests on the pillow and my last thought before I drift off is, Why do they have such nice prison cells here?

*****

Here it is! Chapter one! When I first got this idea, I didn't think much of it, but I finally decided to write it.

Thanks for reading chapter one, and chapter two will be up as soon as possible.

Also, if you have any suggestions for a cast, just comment what your ideas are. I will be very happy to take them into consideration since I have absolutely no idea who to use right now.

~L

Update: 11/23/2017
Hey everyone! sorry it's been so many months, I've been busy. But, i'm finally super motivated to write and have a wayyy better idea of what i want to happen! So, to keep it going, please comment, vote, and share it with others if you like it!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️😘