 |
| |
|
|
Bella Hella
|
 |
philly suburbs
Oct 2001
time: 00:19
|
|
heh heh, i know where i'm going with this! it will be finished!  enjoy, and vote for me! 
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Amy’s Story, Part 7
Ben healed slowly, both emotionally and physically, while Amy did her best to get food in him and make him smile. Although she still visited Pierre in the forest, the visits were infrequent and short. She insisted on a little sword practice every time she saw him, but the rest of the time was spent talking and being together in other ways. Amy explained to him what had happened and that it was her responsibility to care for her brother, but that didn’t make the relationship suffer any less. Amy knew she still loved Pierre, and was certain that he loved her back, but she just didn’t have as much time to frolic in the woods as before. Pierre understood the situation, but still missed her desperately.
“Eh-mee,” he said during their next encounter, “I am afraid my time eez running out. Saint Joan could call me back to Fronce at any time, and I fear I will never see you again!”
“Pierre, don’t say that!” Amy clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder. “We’ll find a way. We HAVE to!”
Pierre took a deep breath and gently held her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “Will you come with me to Fronce? We can have a life together there. I cannot bear to be apart from you!”
Amy lowered her head. “You know I can’t. Especially now, with Ben needing my help.” She wiped away tears of frustration. “I was almost ready to leave with you, and damn the consequences! But it’s impossible now.”
“Then I will wait for you as long as I have to,” he replied, always the gentleman, always the patient, kind and brave man she’d fallen in love with.
Amy almost resented him for his patience and faith that everything would be all right. She almost wished he had just swept her onto his horse and ridden away with her that first day. Now, it was too risky. She would be missed, and who knew if anyone had been watching as she rode off to meet him so many times?
That question was answered shortly.
Amy stole through the night towards he house, leading Washington and, as always, praying he wouldn’t snort at the wrong time and that neither of them would stumble or knock something over. They had been lucky so far.
They reached the stable and Amy closed his stall door. She turned to sneak back to the house, wondering how Ben was doing and hoping he hadn’t woken in the night to find her missing.
Without warning, she felt a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream,” a voice whispered. A familiar voice. She was turned around and Ben stood before her.
“Ben?!? What are you doing out here?” she whispered fiercely.
“Waiting for you,” he replied, still whispering. “What, did you think I didn’t notice you sneaking out in the night?”
“But your leg! How are you able to…” Amy suddenly felt sick. “Do mother and father… do they know?”
Ben laughed, but not in a mean way. “Don’t worry, they sleep like logs every night. Me, I have a harder time sleeping since I… got back.” He sat down on a bale of hay with a grimace of pain, and Amy saw that he was using a walking stick and that his leg was held straight in front of him.
“Do you really think you should be out of bed? You’re still injured, you know.”
“I’m not lying around anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m telling mother and father I’m going back to work in the shop tomorrow. Even making soldiers’ boots is better than lying on your back with nothing to do.” He looked at her. “So what have you been up to, anyway?”
Dodging the question, Amy replied, “Oh, not much. Taking care of you, cooking, cleaning...”
“Oh, come on,” said Ben. “Where have you been going?” He got a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do you have a booooyfriend?”
Amy knew she’d been caught. She looked at him, nervously kneading her fingers. “Can you keep a secret?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
|
|
| |
|
|
|
Bella Hella
|
|
philly suburbs
Oct 2001
time: 00:19
|
|
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Amy’s Story, Part 8
Amy couldn’t believe how good it felt to confess. She told Ben everything, right there in the barn - about the barbarian, the nighttime visits, what France was like, her reading lessons. When she told him she was learning sword fighting, Ben’s eyes widened. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that? Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in if someone finds all this stuff out? They’d probably burn you at the stake. Literally!”
“I know,” said Amy bitterly. “Why do you think I’ve been doing all this in the middle of the night, in secret?” She sighed hopelessly. “There has to be a solution. I am NOT staying in this backward little town for the rest of my life when I could live in Paris with the guy I love. I’m just not staying here. I have to get away. I feel like I’m losing my mind!”
“I know what you mean,” said Ben. “This place sucks. When I was fighting the Greeks, I saw that even their smallest little towns at least have temples. You wouldn’t believe it. Their kids actually get to go to something called “school” and they learn about the rest of the world. Not like here, where everything is rumor and the only way you learn about other cultures is by killing them! Plus their uniforms were way nicer. I heard that some of our troops actually defected and joined the Greek army.”
“You’re kidding!” replied Amy, shocked. “What happened to them?”
“Not a lot. King Abe may be a crazy bastard, but all that stuff about sending assassins to other countries in the night to kill traitors is just crap. He’s way too busy with the war to think about that right now. And where would he get assassins? Everybody’s fighting the Greeks.”
Amy blanched, staggered by the possibility of… “So they just defected, joined the Greeks, and that was that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow. I’ve been wanting to run away to France for… well, years, and all this time I thought I’d be found and killed.”
“No, but don’t run away. It’s still dangerous. Besides, what about me and mother and father? Jeff and Tom? Your friends? Everybody would miss you. Don’t go, Amy. Please.”
Amy saw the pain in his eyes at the thought of losing her. The war must have affected him more than I thought, Amy said to herself. He cares a lot more now. He was such a little jerk before!
“Ok, I won’t go. Not yet. Although it would be best for everybody if we ALL just went to Paris. The entire Jones family.” Amy laughed a little. “Actually, I think everybody in Seattle could stand to get out of here. This place is a hellhole. What’s the point in staying? There are no opportunities here. No education. Not even a friggin’ TEMPLE! Just dirt and squalor and soldiers. And I’m sick of it.”
Ben laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right. Everybody in Seattle will just pack up and go to France. It may suck here, but people have lives; history. They’re not going to leave their homes.”
“But Ben, they don’t even KNOW how bad it sucks here! They’re kept in the dark about the rest of the world. Maybe if they knew how much better it would be…” Amy trailed off, deep in thought. Maybe they COULD know how better it would be. But someone would have to tell them. How? The printing press hadn’t been invented yet, and no one could read anyway. Amy supposed that word-of-mouth was the only way to get the message across. That was how most news was spread. The way Amy figured it, all they needed to do was begin to spread rumors about what the rest of the world was like. Then people would realize what they were missing and demand more! Maybe they’d insist on a better life for themselves. Maybe they’d overthrow King Abraham! Or maybe this was just a stupid little girl idea with no chance of success. What was she even trying to accomplish? Education, she told herself firmly. Our people have to know the truth. They need to know what they’ve been missing all their lives. Amy had no way of predicting what peoples’ reactions would be like, but it was worth a shot…
“Uh, hello, Amy?” Ben was waving a hand in front of her staring eyes.
“Wha…? Oh, sorry. I just had an idea.” Amy explained what she’d been thinking.
Amy and her brother talked until they saw the light of dawn shining through crack in the roof of the barn. By the time the light turned from sunrise-red to early morning-yellow (after passing through "ravishing crimson" and "luscious melon"), they had a plan.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
i'm getting a little afraid of the cheesiness factor, but this is almost done and i'm coming up to an actual ending. hooray! i'm feeling so good i might even include an orgy or two in the next part!
|
|
| |
|
|
|
Bella Hella
|
|
philly suburbs
Oct 2001
time: 00:19
|
|
sorry, not much time to write today. here's part 9 for ya (still no orgies  )
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Amy’s Story, Part 9
Mrs. Barrington leaned forward and, after a quick darting look around, whispered over the fence, “Supposedly they have something called the Hanging Gardens in that big city, Paris. There are fields of flowers and ponds to sit by.”
Her neighbor, Edna Watkinson, sighed in bliss. She was an avid gardener, although most of her skills were used in raising crops for the ever-growing population of Seattle. “Flowers! What a luxury.”
“Oh, you want to talk luxuries?” said Mrs. Barrington. “Try spices and silks imported from the rest of the world! These people have class.”
“Spices! I was just wishing I had something to season the venison with last night…..”
Elsewhere, in an abandoned barn, Amy was instructing a group of teenage girls in the art of swordplay. “No, no, you have to parry,” she demonstrated, “and then thrust!” Her sword found its mark and was imbedded deeply in the scarecrow. The girls applauded and picked up their wooden practice swords. They spent the next hour improving both their unarmed combat skills, and fighting techniques using a variety of weapons, from the standard sword to anything they might be able to grab quickly such as rakes or brooms.
In the meantime, Ben sat with other wounded soldiers whom he had befriended on the barracks porch. “I can’t believe how bored I am right now,” one of them complained. “There’s never anything to do.” With his good arm, he threw a pebble at a street sign depicting a horseshoe.
“I know,” Ben agreed. “Hey, I heard they have these things called coliseums over in France. Every Friday and Saturday night they have the games.”
“What are the games?”
“Well, they start off with a guy playing the trumpet, to announce the start of the games. And then the gladiators come out…”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
|
|
| |
|
|
|
Bella Hella
|
|
philly suburbs
Oct 2001
time: 00:19
|
|
here, the shizz finally starts to hit the fan! find out what happens in... Part 10. thanks for voting for my story! don't forget to vote in the best of the best contest! and stay tuned for part 11!
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Amy’s Story, Part 10
King Abraham Lincoln was slowly but surely taking over the Greek Empire. King Alexander held only six more Greek cities, including the capital city of Athens. But resources and money were getting tight for the Americans, not to mention manpower. King Abraham began to draft ordinary citizens into his army. At first, this was effective. A messenger would be sent out to the citizen’s house bearing the following message:
“King Abraham congratulates you on your fortune, Mr. _________. You have won the first annual American lottery and have been chosen at random to receive a fabulous prize. Prizes are being held at the barracks in the middle of town. Please report there immediately to claim your winnings.”
The recipient of the message only knew that the message was from the King, and that it sounded like he would be getting something for free. Excited, he’d head down to the barracks. After his family noticed his disappearance over a few days, they’d send the son or brother of the “winner” to inquire about the lottery and find out where his relative was. That person, of course, would be drafted as well. After receiving minimal training, they were handed swords and sent to the front lines, where, usually, they were brutally slaughtered. King Abraham was able to get a large batch of “volunteers” (or, “meat shields”) by sending out many of the messages on the same day. But after the people got wind of what the lottery was REALLY all about, they became angry. Several of the cities revolted against the King, but he sent in waves of entertainers to keep them happy. Most of the citizens weren’t educated enough to organize a successful rebellion, and were placated by the songs and riotous juggling acts. They forgot their anger soon enough.
But in Seattle, the people were becoming more educated. They now knew something about the outside world, and that knowledge and bitterness stayed with them despite any amount of jolly clowns sent in by the King. More often than not, the entertainers were pelted with rotting vegetables and mercilessly heckled by the disgruntled people. Many an aspiring balladeer was driven to tears and ran away in shame and humiliation. THEN the people laughed and cheered.
With the help of Pierre, who was an experienced tactician, Amy and Ben had been planning the revolt of Seattle and its defection to France. They were almost ready to introduce their plans to the more-than-willing citizens of their town. After Ben’s leg had mostly healed up, she’d taken him to meet Pierre. The two young men had hit it off and immediately started discussing various military strategies used by their respective countries, and the benefits of one kind of horse or weapon over another. Amy had felt a little bored and left out by all the guy talk, but was happy her brother and lover had become friends.
Now their plans were nearly complete. Amy was especially looking forward to leading the strikes. She had already designed several banners depicting a bearded, crowned head with a red circle and slash through it, and invented some catchy slogans such as “2, 4, 6, 8, who’re we gonna liberate? Seattle! Seattle! Gooooo, Seattle!” Her personal favorite was “I don’t know but I’ve been told, war with Greece is gettin’ old.”
Most of the men were gone from the city, gone to war or already killed by Greeks. Amy’s best friend Karen was now a widow, thanks to a stray Greek arrow that had killed her husband, the man who was 24 years her senior. She didn’t seem all that upset about it as she helped Amy lead the training exercises. Her movements were particularly vicious as she imagined the sword killing her dead husband over and over again. Although he had never succeeded in getting her pregnant during the four years they were married, he had tried, repeatedly and without regard to his young wife’s pain. Amy knew that Karen would be a valuable asset in any battle, if it ever came down to that.
The only ones left in Seattle were the women, young children, old men and wounded soldiers. Amy’s father was still in town, being a few years too old for the draft, but her other two brothers were still gone.
Amy was just finishing up with a banner and lying it out to dry, when she heard the sound of the town’s alarm bell and people shouting something that sounded like “Greeks!” She exchanged horrified looks with Ben and ran outside. People were running, screaming, falling, being trampled in the utter chaos. In the distance, tiny figures were marching toward the town, their green flags hoisted and fluttering as they advanced. Amy’s mind raced.
There were no soldiers left in the town. But the girls she’d been teaching could fight. Many of the wounded soldiers could at least hold a weapon in one hand, or help organize the citizens into some kind of order. The older men would fiercely defend their shops and farms. The children would have to be safely hidden. But where? There was too much to consider in such a short time. They needed weapons! The barracks!
Amy dashed out into the fray and immediately crashed into a short, plump woman carrying a large basket of apples. Apples flew everywhere, hitting people in the head, and rolling underfoot, causing people to stumble and fall. Amy landed hard on her backside. Despite the situation, she began to laugh when she looked up. Stunned bodies and apples littered the road. The poor woman she had bumped into was red-faced and looked furious as she crawled around on hands and knees, looking for apples that weren’t crushed. But the accident had accomplished one thing – people were no longer running and screaming. Instead, they were looking at Amy as if she were crazy. Recognizing the opportunity, Amy sprang to her feet.
“Listen to me! The Greeks are on their way and we don’t have much time! But we can still defend our town and save ourselves! I have a plan, but I need help!”
“What are you going to do about it, girl?” sneered a fat man in a blacksmith’s apron who was sitting on the ground and rubbing his elbow. “It’s either run, or die!”
“NO!” said a new voice. Everyone turned and saw Ben standing there, leaning on his walking stick. “There is another way. But we all need to cooperate.”
Soldiers who had been wounded in battle enjoyed a certain respect among the townsfolk. Amy realized that even if they wouldn’t listen to her, they would listen to Ben. She wisely decided to let him take over.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Last edited by Bella Hella on 18-06-2002 at 00:18
|
|
| |
All times are GMT. The time now is 05:19.
Apolyton Time is 00:19. |
top of page
|
|
|
Forum Rules:
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts
|
HTML code is ON
vB code is ON
Smilies are ON
[IMG] code is ON
|
|
|
|
|
|
05-06-2002 19:48
|