The title is an oxymoron, but so is the majority of my life, so it’s appropriate.
A few weeks back, maybe a month actually, I posted the first three pages to War Accord on the blog. Click here to read it. And then, in another post, I mentioned that I had deleted a few pages and was contemplating giving up on the whole affair. Well, after my flash drive incident (click here to read about that) I felt that giving up wasn’t an option. So, I took some time to think, and I came to the conclusion that I would keep writing it. And I did. It’s a story I feel the need to tell.
I’ve been working on i for a while now, and I’ve reached about 63 pages, just under 25,000 words. I’ll put an excerpt below. But first, the moral of my post.
I could have given up on the story. I could have given up on the half of what I’ve written, on the deleted 14 pages, on the character I was learning about, the world I had created. And I did, for a while. But I guess something in me wouldn’t let that happen. You see, nothing really goes as planned in my life, hence referring to it as an oxymoron at times. And I’m forced to give up on almost everything, as sad as it sounds. And for some reason a few pages on my computer, filled with words and a cheesy title, gave me the will to not give up. It’s just pixels on a screen, with no real value in this world. It’s just something that people will probably never see. But to me, the story, even parts I had yet to tell, mean something more. I’m putting my views and my thoughts into plot and characters and a world that I am creating. And, if I do say so myself, that’s pretty awesome.
So, maybe the moral here is to not give up. However, I’m not as skilled as those kid’s cartoons that give the same message in a more exuberant way, so instead I’m just going to put a piece of War Accord below. Tell me what you think. And don’t give up… or at least, try to not give up as much. You might surprise yourself.
This is the ending scene to Part One.
We get into the main corridor as people start running everywhere, the alarm sounding to tell us we need to go. Jackson runs into us and says something that I don’t hear so I look down and see I cut my hand on the glass. The red line isn’t deep but half my hand is covered in blood. I wipe the blood on my pants, not feeling anything but the heartbeat in my shoulder.
“Kane,” I hear. I look up and Jackson is waving his hand in front of my face. Someone pushes past me and I try to block out the pain it causes. “We have to go now. There are too many airstrikes so we have to take trucks.”
I look around the room. People are going towards the exit stairwells, trying to find order in leaving the compound. It’ll take too long to take trucks there. Chaos will be worse if don’t get there in time. We can’t have chaos in our peaceful compound. We can’t have war in an area of peace.
Someone starts screaming and we all turn. The kid from the bathroom is running into the corridor, screaming.
“They’re lying!” He shouts, running towards us. His eyes are wide and crazed. Red lines stream from his pupils. Behind him, behind his eyes, the commander and his assistant work to catch up. The kid stares at me. “Don’t listen to them, they’re starting the-”
The gunshot is louder than the explosions.
The kid is at my feet, his fingers almost touching my boots. I feel splatters of blood on my face. I look up at the commander’s assistant, holding the gun up still. He looks at me. And we just stand there.
I start running towards him, around the dead kid, around the thick, bloody air, around everything I stand for. He points his gun towards me. I keep running.
The gunshot is ringing in my ears.
The ceiling is above me again, and I’m looking at the dent where the bullet hit it. Someone is yelling, and someone else is pulling me up, and dragging me out of there.
“Kane,” Jackson’s voice is the only thing I hear. “Start walking. We need to go.”
I stand on my own and see Bennett pointing towards where we need to go. The commander is behind Bennett, looking at me. His assistant is holding his head, catching his breath. We walk to an exit, people already gone. No one chases after us. There are no more gunshots. Everything that just occurred stands still, right where we left it. I keep falling into Jackson, and we start walking up stairs before I know it.
“You’re lucky I pushed you out of the way,” Bennett says after a while of walking up stairs. I disagree. I rather die than live not knowing the truth. I rather die that participate in this war. “You’re lucky that they need soldiers to fight more than they need to keep them in check. If the war wasn’t so pressing, he would have attempted to shoot you again. It’s better to just keep yourself mindless and go along with things than to defend everyone with an opinion.”
“What’s your opinion?” I hear myself say. We keep walking up stairs, the alarm getting quieter and quieter.
“We’re almost there,” Is all she says. She has no answer because she, herself, is mindless. She could have died in the middle of a base of peace, and she has no thought other than entering war. A young soldier ran toward us, yelling something so damaging he had to be killed by the leader of our small military. I was then almost shot because I knew what happened was wrong. And then, in desperation for manpower alone, we walked away alive. And she questions none of it.
We reach the top.
This is the last I’ll see of the compound. We’re going to war, now.