The Never-Ending Notebook: Book of Books

Dud: Chapter 2: Discovery

Hi everyone! I hope since now and the last time you've read your life has been good. If not then find one thing that can make you happy but also remember that we cant always be so, I guess, relish in the sadness so you can appreciate the happiness THAT WILL COME.

I was going to post Fences, a new book, but it isn't finished yet so you lovely humans get a continued chapter of The Dud. As I am sure all of you are, I am busy too so, I apologize for the late post and the almost not posting let alone a not-new-book post. BUT, maybe you like continuation posts...let me know...please?

Now, I want to talk about stuff. I was wondering if you guys preferred a way to organize this book. (OCD shout outs, me too man) I wasn't sure if I should organize by books (all of the chaps of the same series will be together) or if you guys like it how it is. By date or released. Please share your thought with me! Share and Like!

Love yourself and love others!

Fruitgurl

Perhaps you don't remember so you can go back and read the whole last chapter or read the following refresher. Or you do remember and you can skip right to the chapter!

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I have trained daily on my own. After thirteen cycles came the testing and I was deemed a "Dud", a powerless child. After my dubbing, "dudding" if you ask the young Countess Liliana, all of my studying, training, physicals, and mentals were abruptly stopped. I became a drifter. I did my own thing without anyone caring too much. Unless someone had bad luck or wished for a scapegoat. My mother, however, does hold a little bit of mind for me. She has a lurking suspicion I could be working for the rebellion and giving her precious secrets.

There was a small "0" below the seven describing my rank in the Main Familia. The fact I even had a number was something to be aware of. It described me as a part of the reigning familia's direct line. Even a low number like a Three could destroy a small rebel group with training. However, I was a Zero. A taunt, an ever-lasting joke from the eldest brother, the Seventh, my least favorite, Marques Karanojiki. When we were young, and I recently discovered a "dud", he wrote with a calligraphy pen "ZERO" over my proud "7th" rank. Soon enough, my pride was permanently blundered with an applique "0" as my rank.

I look behind me and wisps of my hair escaping from braids whips my face. Despite my cornrows, the rebellious strands still got into my mouth. I was blinded in one moment and tripped over an overgrown root. I clambered back to standing, briefly brushing my knees of any residue of my fall. I rubbed my face and felt a sticky wetness on my cheek but I disregard it. I was careful of stumbling as I continue to run.

Pulling back the curtain of green and see the same tight, brown braids with some strands showing my hair's medium length. The small nose. The almond-shaped grey eyes. The blade-sharpening jawline. The wide collar bones and medium-sized shoulders. The skin of damp earth featuring a thin scar below and behind my ear. I gazed at my face again.

Examining every detail on my face I focus on a small, open scar bleeding on my right cheek. They say nothing could ever make me bleed. Nothing can hurt me and I feel nothing despite my obvious distaste for the feel of a wicked pulwar blade. Despite their words, that I wish was true, their words hurt more than any dagger, arrow or fork. Don't ask about the fork. Utensils are the devil.

The scar bled an unusual color. I edged closer to the mirror. I wiped it with a small handkerchief I stole from the kitchens. It was light and of a purplish tone. It seemed to swirl and shift despite it being stable in my palm. I gazed at the swirling, getting lost in the depths of the color.