An Exerpt
Sorry it's been forever, no internet and no time and I forgot my password (I can usually find my way around a computer but yeah). No one seemed interested, and several people were a bit cruel right at first so I got a little bitter about forums too. I wasn't really trying to spam, I promise, I just got really excited when my book got published
and I couldn't help trying to tell everyone. I've calmed down since this spring
oh well.
Anyway, since you asked for an exerpt... and not that you'll probably come looking back at this post anyway, but hopefully, if by some random chance you do see it, this will help you think better of me. This is actually an exerpt from the book I'm currently working on: which has no title as of yet, (not even a working one
) but it's more in the sci-fi vein. It takes place some 7,000 years in the future. Possibly our own galaxy, though not stated (i.e. I haven't decided yet). Thoughts are welcome. I can't say when I'll be back on here again, but yea - have fun. (P.S. I've had to put it into two posts... so read this one first)
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Chapter III – Ghardyen System (pronounced "guardian")
L.E. (liberated era) 174 (some 7,000 years in the future)
Gregoire punched in the hangar bay numbers for the Star-Grade prisoner transport that had just arrived. Then he leaned back wearily. He sighed as he flopped his leg over the threadbare arm of the worn-out chair that he was sitting in. The chair was uncomfortable, mostly because it was too big for him. He was small for his age and his feet did not quite reach the floor yet when he sat in this chair. That was one of the things that made this post his least favorite of the day, even if it did mean that he got to play with the computer. He was tired; tired of the orders, tired of the threats, tired of the routine, and just tired of everything in general about this foul planet that he had been forced to grow up on. He was the sort of boy who liked to laugh, but there was precious little to laugh about on Kalublai. Heaving another great sigh, Gregoire swung his leg down and slipped out of the chair, deciding that he did not want to be yelled at by his guardian for being late to his next post. He wondered fleetingly about the prisoner transport that he had just directed to bay R-17, but decided that he would find out all he wanted to know soon enough: it was his night to feed that particular wing of cells. He was excited about that, prisoners liked talking to him, and Gregoire hungered for the tales that they had to tell.
He padded softly down the hall to the kitchen. It was dinner time for the guardians, and it was Gregoire’s turn to serve them this week. He had to feed them first. Then he and the other boys would take food to the prisoners. Then, and only then, would he be allowed to eat, and only if he finished before the other boys who lived and worked on the prison base. The last boy done always went hungry. After dinner the boys were allowed an hour or two of free-time, it was then that Gregoire would creep back to talk with the prisoners; begging them to tell him their stories, feeding his hunger for news of the outside world that he had never seen.
Gregoire had been born on Kalublai, the largest prison in the galaxy, and the most feared. It was to this prison-planet that Nefario sent his most dangerous enemies. His mother had been a prisoner on Kalublai and she had given birth to him while in prison. When she died, Gregoire had been taken in by the guardians. They had raised him along with other children that had similar backgrounds to himself. There was little affection shown to these children, and many of them died before they reached their tenth birthday. But Gregoire had proven to be a survivor. He worked hard and he remained cheerful even in the gloom of the prison corridors of Kalublai. He did his chores well, and he proved to be something of a genius when it came to gadgets and computer technology. This made him something of a favorite among the guardians, who were able to trust him with some of the more technical and difficult jobs. The more they gave him, the more he learned, and he soon discovered that no door was ever completely closed to him. To pass the time and break up the monotony, Gregoire began to play at code-breaking. He soon had full-access to the mainframe of the entire Kalublai prison system. He used his access to learn about the world outside. He soon knew all about the Challenge and their fight against Nefario. In his heart, he began to root for their cause. It did not trouble him that he had been raised by the guardians, nor by the fact that he had worked all his life for Nefario in his largest prison. He bore no great love towards the people who had raised him, or for the other cell-children that he worked and lived with. Gregoire was content in the knowledge that his mother had opposed Nefario and therefore so would he.
“There you are boy,” one of the guardians stopped him in the hall, “make sure you wash your hands before you bring us dinner, the last cell-boy didn’t and I don’t like grime in my food.”
“Yes sir,” Gregoire said respectfully. The guardians were always gruff, but they were not to be feared. Gregoire knew that they were not unkind. Sometimes he thought that the grayness of the prison-planet had seeped into everyone who lived there, causing them to forget how to smile. Not for the first time, Gregoire thought longingly of the outside world. Surely somewhere in the universe there was color, surely somewhere there was laughter and comraderie and fun; it was all out there somewhere, and someday he was going to go find it.
