*WARNING. SOME VIOLENCE INVOLVED, LIKE SOME BLOOD AND STUFF LIKE THE WARRIORS BATTLES AND SUCH, DO NOT READ IF YOU PUKE AT THE WORD BLOOD * thank you. :)
Ok, I wrote this because I was reading something about tatoo's (this is NOT all about tatoo's at all, acctually, tatoo's are barely mentioned) and how ancients used to carve them into their faces *shudder* I didn't know u could do tht, maybe the health mag. was wrong.... anyways! After tht I researched old style tatoos, fell asleep, and had a dream, yes, A DREAM. that led to me writing this! So I hope u like! And I am only gunna write more if u guys want me to, cuz If it is unliked I see no reason to continue :P hehe
Prologue Think war, think plague, think invasion. Laighs family was invaded by a new growing city in Mexico, all those who fought were killed, all those who ran were shot, and she only lived because of the talents she presented, therefore with Laigh held prisoner what happened to her family was a mystery to her,but what she fears most of the future is being marked upon her forehead by the very sign that you are a prisoner, the accursed tattoo. As soon as she received it she could never be free again, and this thought hurt her greatly.
Chapter One: The Register
"P17496, P17497, P17498" As the markings to be were yelled out and written with a permanent pen across the foreheads of the prisoners, Laigh began to tear up, and her emotions did not go unnoticed by the guards. With a few whips to the back she made herself silent, nearly chewing her lip off in the process, and then she whimpered in pain quietly. Another whip. She would make no more sounds; cry no more tears, for by doing so she would endanger herself. And she valued her life greatly. Her back bleed terribly and the blood itself splashed her bare feet every step she took, and this made it even harder to hold in her pain. It was her turn, and as she stepped up to the prisoner inker her eyes darted around the floor, searching for pools of water that had leaked through the cracks in the foundation. She wanted to see herself one last time with the forehead of a free woman. Laigh got her glance, and was then shoved into the chamber chair to be chained up, and be given the most painful tattoo the Casi could put upon a person. And naturally the entire time she was forced to hold in a yelp or a gasp, she let not one breath out; of this she was proud. She was now registered. With her new prisoner tattoo swelling and bleeding like her other wounds she let out a tear that luckily was disguised by the blood dripping down her face. Then she was thrust into another room, darker and colder than the other one, but this time she was surrounded by other people, who had just received their prison markings, that were now permanent and no longer just pen. Then she was approached by a muscular man with olive skin, and blood red eyes, Casis second greatest symbol of authority. "Give me your name!" he ordered, "Laigh, um sir she whimpered." With lightning speed the whip hit her calf and she collapsed. Kicking dirt in her face he yelled again "Your name filth!" Oh, she realized, her name was now P17501, the name they had engraved upon her face, the name she was forced to memorize. "P17501, sir" she whispered "Hmm," he said. "It would appear so." He catalogued her number into a strange leather bound book and kicked some more dirt in her face. With that he was gone to torture more of her people. Doing her best to stand up and clean of her new calf wound with the hem of her clothing, she began to feel light headed. The person before her had just collapsed of blood loss, would she do the same? No matter how great her attempts to remain conscious she began to fade out. What will they do with me when I am out cold? She thought slit my throat or let me bleed slowly to death? At least I wont be here to witness that.
-- Edited by Karma on Thursday 15th of October 2009 04:50:48 AM