No issue with admitting that I was, and still am to a degree, fascinated with stories about mutation in the human population. X-Men may have been an extreme, but it was actually Anne McCaffrey who initially introduced me to the idea with her Talents' series of books...X-Men definitely allowed for a little more daring imaginings though!
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She was human, but she wished she wasn't. She was envious, not hurtfully so, but envious none the less, of the students here who were mutants. Mutant High was so affectionately called because of them. Some of the students, like her, were human, but they were quickly becoming the minority as more and more mutants were being enrolled. Quiet and a loner, she was forgotten, most often not even noticed against them, and yet she watched them with envy. Hidden deep behind her Gothic persona and dress she longed to be one of them, she longed, strangely enough, to belong. And deep down, she felt that with them was where she could.
The wanting ached and burned inside of her, so she climbed. Any, and everything she could, she would climb. The trees, the lockers, even the school. At one time or another she had managed to climb every public building in town. Except the mansion. The X-mansion. Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted. Gifted, another word for mutants, she thought sullenly. She slouched in her bell tower seat atop the school, letting the bitterness course through her, afire in her veins.
Mutants and humans alike, she was nothing to them. Shadows of nothingness, background noise, the kind you don't even notice the first time you hear it. But it didn't really matter, or at least that was what she tried to convince herself. That she didn't really fit in with either group. A human longing to be a mutant, no matter what, she was an outcast, would always Be one. She didn't even bother to climb back down for her class when the bell rang. How many times had she missed Jean Grey's class now? And the telepath had never even noticed. Not that she would, she was too busy looking out for her precious mutants.
She turned and punched her fist into the brick of the wall, letting her frustrations fade away and pain replace them, again and again she drove her clenched hand into the wall, never once wincing. Pain was good to her, it was the only thing besides climbing that seemed real to her. The only other thing that could break through the fog that had become her life. Calmer now, she made her way back to the ground and headed towards the front gate. She was tired of school and people for the day. Instead, she headed for the climbing gym. Well, it was more of a park than a gym with all kinds of structures, not just walls to climb. Half the time it also doubled as a paint ball area, something else she was very good at. They knew her there, and as use to her mid-day visits as they were, and they would let her in.
"The guys from the Mansion have it booked today Jules," the attendent called everyone that.
"Even the Challenge?" she felt like breaking a sweat today and the Challenge was best for that. The hardest part of the park, it was the only thing around here that she had to work at to climb.
"Nah, they're eyeing it, but haven't tried it yet, I'll add you to the list."
"Thanks," and she slipped in the entrance door. She knew to be careful when the people from the Mansion, aka mutants, were working here. She'd seen what could happen if they weren't able to control their powers. That's what they were here for in the first place, to practice their control.
Sitting on a bench, she slid on her tennis shoes and dropped her sweatshirt and wind pants to the floor to reveal figure hugging black jeans and a tight black sports bra. Pulling her hair up into a high ponytail she clipped her CD player firmly to her jeans at the small of her back and put the headphones over her ears, hard rock blasting out at her. Clenching and unclenching her gloved hands, she did a few slow limbering stretches and then moved to stand in front of the Pyramid. This was her favorite and she reserved it for her particularly stressful days, which were, unfortunately, not all that far and few between. It was huge, roughly an upside-down pyramid shaped pile of welded metal. It was constantly being added to, especially after she scaled it, or so it seemed. She enjoyed not only the climbing challenge it offered, but that it had a level of danger to it. All raw metal and endless numbers of possible paths through and over it to the top. Just touching it sent a thrill through her. Focused completely, she pulled herself up on the first hold and into it.
Charles Xavier, Scott Summers, Logan, and their students watched the seemingly fearless young woman slid effortlessly and almost fluidly through the proven deathly trap of scrap metal.
"Is she insane?" Scott asked incredulously.
"No, I've seen her finish it before. More than once." Logan just leaned back to enjoy the show. He had seen her do this before, several times, and he was no less in awe of her skill each time.
"Intriguing." Xavier also watched closely. The girl's movements were almsot too perfect, even for an experienced climber. Was it possible....?
"And she's human too. No mutancy at all." Logan had just answered everyone's unspoken question. Xavier's heart fell. There were so few new mutants easily found these days.
"She's good." Bobby proclaimed.
"Yeah, good enough to think she was one of us," Logan watched for just a moment more and then turned as the others had, back to their own training.
"One is rarely aware, these days, of such talents being natural to a human and not some facet of mutantancy." Charles Xavier thought to himself before he too forgot about the young girl. For when they were finished for the day, she was already gone.
The next morning, she did not appear for school at all, and that afternoon, a body was found, floating in the river that ran by the Mansion. Bobby had found her, and not even recognized her, no one did. When a search of her house was finally made, her computer was found on, an article open on it, an assignment the girl had, due in Jean Grey's class.
'We matter too, humans, non-mutants, and there are those of us who envy you, enough to want to be you. we may be background noise, but we matter too....'
15 August, 2018
14 August, 2018
"And The Earth Shook From Her Very Core"
Wow, here's one that gives away a bit of where I live and that I must have written this in my teens or early 20s as it is very 'perfect situation' type of bad writing. There is promise of a decent story, but the perfect-ness of where it is at and the details would need some serious re-working...this is a junker...I have no desire to build upon it or to fix it up....
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The first indication was when the lights in her lecture class died and then came back on. The rest of the class paid it no attention, but she had a bad feeling about it. And though she kept her eyes open, looking for another, the next would not appear for several months, at a time when she couldn't even remember there having been a first.
The earthquake started when I while I was running for the doorway. I knew it was coming before the shockwaves even reached us, I've always known when the earthquakes were coming. An adaptation that comes from living on the Pacific Rim as I do. But although I knew it was coming, I had no idea until it hit how bad things would end up. once it did hit, I knew something was wrong, the earthquake wasn't coming from across the land as usual, it was coming up from below us, from in the earth. My sister realized this too and when she looked at me, there was pure terror in her eyes. We knew, this one wasn't gonna end anytime soon and we had to get out of there, immediately.
It wasn't any better outside, but at least it wasn't any worse. More and more families joined us and for the next few hours there was nothing to do but huddle together and watch our homes fall apart before our eyes. Maybe they should have put "Built to withstand all Ground Quakes" instead of Earth Quakes on the buyer's lease. Compared to this, all the earthquakes we'd been through were nothing. That brings us to where we are now, taking a beak from shifting through the rubble that was our house. Mom and Dad are somewhere halfway across the continent and we're all waiting for the next round of quaking. It is coming...
"I can feel it," my sister looked up at me from her seat on what use to be our dryer and immediately began to scramble to her safe spot, a solid niche among the rubble. We both had one, padded with blankets and pillows, we could safely sleep through the quakes now. Some of our friends had followed our example and when felt the coming trembles, scrambled also for their 'nests'. From my seat I close the journal I had found and began to search through the pile of stuff I had rescued. My favorite teddy bear sat in my lap as I began to shake dust and grime out of the piled clothes, books, and trinkets. Keeping myself busy I finally sat back with a knitting project I'd uncovered and sat to watch for anything new.
After we'd discovered how to predict and deal with the quakes, they very quickly became very boring. We were lucky, it didn't look like it was going to rain. Our neighborhood had also been lucky as the worst injuries had only been minor scratches and bruises. We knew that other parts of our town had not been so lucky.
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The first indication was when the lights in her lecture class died and then came back on. The rest of the class paid it no attention, but she had a bad feeling about it. And though she kept her eyes open, looking for another, the next would not appear for several months, at a time when she couldn't even remember there having been a first.
The earthquake started when I while I was running for the doorway. I knew it was coming before the shockwaves even reached us, I've always known when the earthquakes were coming. An adaptation that comes from living on the Pacific Rim as I do. But although I knew it was coming, I had no idea until it hit how bad things would end up. once it did hit, I knew something was wrong, the earthquake wasn't coming from across the land as usual, it was coming up from below us, from in the earth. My sister realized this too and when she looked at me, there was pure terror in her eyes. We knew, this one wasn't gonna end anytime soon and we had to get out of there, immediately.
It wasn't any better outside, but at least it wasn't any worse. More and more families joined us and for the next few hours there was nothing to do but huddle together and watch our homes fall apart before our eyes. Maybe they should have put "Built to withstand all Ground Quakes" instead of Earth Quakes on the buyer's lease. Compared to this, all the earthquakes we'd been through were nothing. That brings us to where we are now, taking a beak from shifting through the rubble that was our house. Mom and Dad are somewhere halfway across the continent and we're all waiting for the next round of quaking. It is coming...
"I can feel it," my sister looked up at me from her seat on what use to be our dryer and immediately began to scramble to her safe spot, a solid niche among the rubble. We both had one, padded with blankets and pillows, we could safely sleep through the quakes now. Some of our friends had followed our example and when felt the coming trembles, scrambled also for their 'nests'. From my seat I close the journal I had found and began to search through the pile of stuff I had rescued. My favorite teddy bear sat in my lap as I began to shake dust and grime out of the piled clothes, books, and trinkets. Keeping myself busy I finally sat back with a knitting project I'd uncovered and sat to watch for anything new.
After we'd discovered how to predict and deal with the quakes, they very quickly became very boring. We were lucky, it didn't look like it was going to rain. Our neighborhood had also been lucky as the worst injuries had only been minor scratches and bruises. We knew that other parts of our town had not been so lucky.
A loose scrap piece of paper
Amazing how many scraps of paper I am finding with random writings on them, thoughts that I must have had in the middle of class or what not...
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She was the closest thing to a best friend he had, or would ever have. He hadn't asked for her friendship, she had just sort of slipped into his life, unobtrusively. Surely but slowly she had become as solid as a rock to him, ever present, ever near.
She was average, not tall, not short, her hair, somewhere closer to blonde than brown was nearly always pulled up into a ponytail. Her eyes were somewhat of a cross between blue and grey. Her face, it was hard to remember quite what she looked like as she always seemed to have her nose buried in a book. He supposed she had never been a great beauty, but then again he had pretty much been infatuated with Lily Evans ever since he was young.
He wasn't sure when she had first appeared, perhaps she had always been there, across from him in the great hall, at the next desk in their classes, walking beside him on the castle grounds...
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Hmm, looks like I was utilizing the Harry Potter universe for that thought, but the character development I am sure could fit into almost any other story line!!
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She was the closest thing to a best friend he had, or would ever have. He hadn't asked for her friendship, she had just sort of slipped into his life, unobtrusively. Surely but slowly she had become as solid as a rock to him, ever present, ever near.
She was average, not tall, not short, her hair, somewhere closer to blonde than brown was nearly always pulled up into a ponytail. Her eyes were somewhat of a cross between blue and grey. Her face, it was hard to remember quite what she looked like as she always seemed to have her nose buried in a book. He supposed she had never been a great beauty, but then again he had pretty much been infatuated with Lily Evans ever since he was young.
He wasn't sure when she had first appeared, perhaps she had always been there, across from him in the great hall, at the next desk in their classes, walking beside him on the castle grounds...
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Hmm, looks like I was utilizing the Harry Potter universe for that thought, but the character development I am sure could fit into almost any other story line!!
What do you know, One that still makes me laugh!
Not at all sure when I wrote this, nor do I know where I was really going with it. It has the feel of a sole scene that was in my mind with no full story really to flesh it out, but as I read through it, I am finding myself chuckling!
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I figure all my problems began that pesky day my brain decided that I needed mission, a reason, for my life. Mind you, I can't tell you what day exactly that was, nor do I even really know what my mission actually is, but I guarantee you that that is what started this all. And, of course, I couldn't be happy with teaching the geniuses of the next generation or helping to cure the sick, I had to be one of those "off to save the universe" type of mission girls. No, literally, I went off, half-cocked, to save the friggin universe. Probably, no, definitely the reason said universe is about to be, well, destroyed is a pleasant term for what's about to happen, and I get to watch. Actually, the view to the party is sort of an accidental coincidence, I just happen to be standing in the perfect spot as I wait for them to remember that I'm here and scheduled for...what did they call it? Oh yeah, Cessation. Okay, so sometime in the next few bits, I'm going to Cease To Be...goodie. I wonder if the grand old plan of experiencing death first-hand was in my mission plan the day my brain wrote it. I'm guessing not. I'm guessing not. I'm also guessing it's not going to be all that grand. Note to self: rebellions are meant to be read about, not lived, for enjoyment. Living them just. plain. sucks.
If I had to blame anything for this brilliantly stupid plan of mine, you know, the one that started the end? It'd have to be the writers--yeah, those ones--the good ones, the ones who craft their storylines so perfectly that you wish you lived them, the ones who know how to make you feel and believe in everything the hero or heroine does, the ones who have never set foot outside their safe, mid-level homes and don't know a friggin thing about how the real world works. Then I would blame space engineers. I mean really, who builds starships with the capacity to carry hundreds of people across thousands of light-years and doesn't think of ways to keep the children of said people and crews out of trouble. Yup, boredom, a plethra of fictional stories, and starships simply chuck full of places and things I'm suppose to "not get into"...that is SO a recipe for trouble.
My maternal figure was a navagationalist, and the paternal figure some kind of engineering genius, and me, I was the one who got taught just enough about building, flying, and explosion-proofing (and thus how to explode them) said starships, to make me Really dangerous. I learned really fast that those red, flashing emergency lights and the sirens, yeah, those usually get me into trouble. Disabling them is your primary task when going somewhere you're not suppose to be, getting Out of where you're not suppose to be when things really start going wrong is your next, and lying convincingly to the parental and authority figures, right up there as a third...
You read enough adventure writings, no matter how many places you go or how adventurous your life already is, you start twitching to go and do More.
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I have this vague feeling that this wasn't a story about the heroine of a situation...more about someone who bumbles her way into a rebellion, ends up somehow contributing to the big bad that is going to occur, whether on purpose or just by accident, and MAYBE ends up getting saved at the last minute by the hero/ine....maybe.
I'm not sure if it will ever develop into more than what it is...but it's a cute scribble! I wish I Could remember when and where I wrote it and what inspired it (perhaps it was a Doctor Who-inspired ramble...it has that glow to it...)
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I figure all my problems began that pesky day my brain decided that I needed mission, a reason, for my life. Mind you, I can't tell you what day exactly that was, nor do I even really know what my mission actually is, but I guarantee you that that is what started this all. And, of course, I couldn't be happy with teaching the geniuses of the next generation or helping to cure the sick, I had to be one of those "off to save the universe" type of mission girls. No, literally, I went off, half-cocked, to save the friggin universe. Probably, no, definitely the reason said universe is about to be, well, destroyed is a pleasant term for what's about to happen, and I get to watch. Actually, the view to the party is sort of an accidental coincidence, I just happen to be standing in the perfect spot as I wait for them to remember that I'm here and scheduled for...what did they call it? Oh yeah, Cessation. Okay, so sometime in the next few bits, I'm going to Cease To Be...goodie. I wonder if the grand old plan of experiencing death first-hand was in my mission plan the day my brain wrote it. I'm guessing not. I'm guessing not. I'm also guessing it's not going to be all that grand. Note to self: rebellions are meant to be read about, not lived, for enjoyment. Living them just. plain. sucks.
If I had to blame anything for this brilliantly stupid plan of mine, you know, the one that started the end? It'd have to be the writers--yeah, those ones--the good ones, the ones who craft their storylines so perfectly that you wish you lived them, the ones who know how to make you feel and believe in everything the hero or heroine does, the ones who have never set foot outside their safe, mid-level homes and don't know a friggin thing about how the real world works. Then I would blame space engineers. I mean really, who builds starships with the capacity to carry hundreds of people across thousands of light-years and doesn't think of ways to keep the children of said people and crews out of trouble. Yup, boredom, a plethra of fictional stories, and starships simply chuck full of places and things I'm suppose to "not get into"...that is SO a recipe for trouble.
My maternal figure was a navagationalist, and the paternal figure some kind of engineering genius, and me, I was the one who got taught just enough about building, flying, and explosion-proofing (and thus how to explode them) said starships, to make me Really dangerous. I learned really fast that those red, flashing emergency lights and the sirens, yeah, those usually get me into trouble. Disabling them is your primary task when going somewhere you're not suppose to be, getting Out of where you're not suppose to be when things really start going wrong is your next, and lying convincingly to the parental and authority figures, right up there as a third...
You read enough adventure writings, no matter how many places you go or how adventurous your life already is, you start twitching to go and do More.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have this vague feeling that this wasn't a story about the heroine of a situation...more about someone who bumbles her way into a rebellion, ends up somehow contributing to the big bad that is going to occur, whether on purpose or just by accident, and MAYBE ends up getting saved at the last minute by the hero/ine....maybe.
I'm not sure if it will ever develop into more than what it is...but it's a cute scribble! I wish I Could remember when and where I wrote it and what inspired it (perhaps it was a Doctor Who-inspired ramble...it has that glow to it...)
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