Patchwork Nation
Chapter 1
Our Nation is a great one. A simple lie processed into our minds from birth. How do we know it is great? What defines a great nation? Only the High Ones do only the High Ones may, the rest of us are but faithful citizens who must obey without thought. That's how we run now, no one thinks anymore, we are but bodies in a web of deception, if you struggle to free yourself the stickier you become until... the spider comes to get you. One wrong move, and they kill you. Which is why I don't live there anymore.
My me is Merthe, which in one language is flowers and in another is goat. Flower goat. My family works, at least I think they still do, in the farms in sector 2, where they process the meat and foodstuffs. They thought it was an appropriate name for the daughter of a goat farmer. I haven't had a chance to rechristen myself yet, although I don't think I may, it'd be nice to have a connection to my rots even if they are deadly poisonous.
This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't have goat. I get that from the people I meet, they hear my name and immediately look around for one. They're too loud and troublesome for me to keep, I never liked them much anyway. They're more likely to eat my clothes than benefit me.
I've ben away from the Nation for two years now, just myself and a companion I picked up three months in. Her name is Aol. She found me sleeping in a willow tree and it seemed fitting: in the Old Language, Aol means climber. She's a cat.
Well, not really a cat. Once the Nation closed the gates, only the animals inside it were kept. The dogs, cats, everything never evolved, merely bred smaller and more 'perfect'. Whilst out here they grew, and grew, and now we call wild Kli, Old Language for fierce. Aol is sleek, long, she stands only at my waist but she has her snakelike body to compensate. She would be taller than a full grown man if she stood. Her feline head is pointy, jet graceful, underneath the shining black fur lie two icy blue eyes, intelligent, all knowing, as though she's seen the Universe twice over.
She didn't hurt me that first time, she just snuck up on me and sniffed me out. If you've lived long enough outside the boundaries, you know they won't attack unless threatened. I threw her a slab of deer meat, she took it and linked away. The next day she came again, one more cut of venison. This carried on for a week, until was nearly out of provisions and was nearly forced to go hunting again. Hunting can be very dangerous, I prefer to be up in the trees than on the forest floor, where snakes and lions prowl. I didn't run this far just to be eaten alive.
My me is Merthe, which in one language is flowers and in another is goat. Flower goat. My family works, at least I think they still do, in the farms in sector 2, where they process the meat and foodstuffs. They thought it was an appropriate name for the daughter of a goat farmer. I haven't had a chance to rechristen myself yet, although I don't think I may, it'd be nice to have a connection to my rots even if they are deadly poisonous.
This may come as a surprise to you, but I don't have goat. I get that from the people I meet, they hear my name and immediately look around for one. They're too loud and troublesome for me to keep, I never liked them much anyway. They're more likely to eat my clothes than benefit me.
I've ben away from the Nation for two years now, just myself and a companion I picked up three months in. Her name is Aol. She found me sleeping in a willow tree and it seemed fitting: in the Old Language, Aol means climber. She's a cat.
Well, not really a cat. Once the Nation closed the gates, only the animals inside it were kept. The dogs, cats, everything never evolved, merely bred smaller and more 'perfect'. Whilst out here they grew, and grew, and now we call wild Kli, Old Language for fierce. Aol is sleek, long, she stands only at my waist but she has her snakelike body to compensate. She would be taller than a full grown man if she stood. Her feline head is pointy, jet graceful, underneath the shining black fur lie two icy blue eyes, intelligent, all knowing, as though she's seen the Universe twice over.
She didn't hurt me that first time, she just snuck up on me and sniffed me out. If you've lived long enough outside the boundaries, you know they won't attack unless threatened. I threw her a slab of deer meat, she took it and linked away. The next day she came again, one more cut of venison. This carried on for a week, until was nearly out of provisions and was nearly forced to go hunting again. Hunting can be very dangerous, I prefer to be up in the trees than on the forest floor, where snakes and lions prowl. I didn't run this far just to be eaten alive.
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To be continued.