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#Post#: 184--------------------------------------------------
Harris Burdick Stories
By: [Vagen] Freeze Dried Date: November 8, 2018, 10:36 am
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w0tch i can read yours now
post stories here
This is mine:
Mister Linden’s Library
Prologue
“It is the year 2 After the Terrible. Two years after all the
major landmasses had merged together much more swiftly than
scientists could’ve imagined. From there, the Month of Mirth
started, completely rewriting our earth. Earth has only one
continent, Pangea Ultima. Diplomatic relationships were quickly
improved due to the forcefulness of the quickly elected
President of Pangea Ultima. Located in the sovereign states of
Macau and Abu Dhabi, our Capitol buildings stand sanctimonious.
The President Chung Li and his cabinet live in the House of
Macau. The Judicial branch of government lives in Abu Dhabi. To
avoid earlier mistakes, the government attempted to block all
holes leaking with water. While this seems like a step forward
for humanity, it also means that there could be potentially more
conflict. Due to the sudden moves of the government, cultures
split apart, and enemies forced into merging. After Vatican City
had to open more area for citizens of any background, the
government attempted to censor the outcry. When the Korean
nations merged as one country, the slaughtering that pursued was
mysteriously not a controversial topic. What made most nations
unhappy, was the democratic government that each country had to
have. Many countries have circumvented this rule by
democratically voting for a socialist, monarchist, or communist
government.” The first page of Micah García’s journal The
World’s Journey.
I’m Ximena Bello, a citizen of Venezuela. I was born on January
19th, 32 AT. My only source of reliable truth is my parents, who
are part of the few remaining survivors of the Darién Invasion
and the detainment of conspirators against the Venezuelan
government. They are the only ones I know of who remember
Venezuela before the Month of Mirth. According to my parents,
our desperate society elected a socialist president
democratically, and now we are still in the same dilemma that
started ever since the 1999 AD election of Hugo Chávez. All this
information I have told you about our current world is censored.
The Venezuelan government is now not just dysfunctional, but
also tyrannical. We are not allowed to do many things that my
parents did. Speaking about the AD years is forbidden, and there
are strict punishments for minor offenses. What extremely
bothered them was the ban on books, computers, and many things
that had a large network of information. My parents also told me
that no other country has done anything about our situation, as
the President of Pangea Ultima is improving the economy instead
of human rights issues.
I
1/19/43 AT
Today is my birthday, which is the only “holiday” that
Venezuelans are allowed to celebrate. After waking
up still extremely fatigued, I walk out of my room with a
surprise waiting for me. My parents always start their work one
hour before I wake up to go to school, so I am used to not
seeing them in the morning. When I look at the diminutive table
in our kitchen, I see something that I’ve only seen at school. A
small Tres Leches cake. My body immediately filled with
exhilaration and gratitude. My parents would never buy something
so unnecessary and expensive, yet they did anyway, just for me.
After reading the note they left me, I quickly chomp down the
succulent cake and got ready for school. The usually long walk
to my school felt like a breeze as I skipped animatedly down the
road. School is one of my favorite parts of the day, “Learning
is the only way to be successful, cariño.” My father used to
tell me this when I was preparing to enter early grade school.
My father also told me about how the education system had
changed in Venezuela. He always muttered bitterly about how
unfair life was in Venezuela. We’ve always wanted to leave
Venezuela, but according to my father, there is a border that is
heavily guarded.
School felt like a blur, I was so ecstatic that I could barely
focus during my favorite classes. During history class, we were
learning about how Venezuela contributed the most in the
development of Pangea Ultima. While I was squirming in my seat,
my history teacher snapped at me shouting, “Ximena stop
fidgeting! What’s gotten into you today?”
I immediately stopped moving and stared at the floor. “Lo Siento
Señora.” The rest of the school day rushed by, and before I knew
it, started running home with even more energy. My father meets
me on the way home from school and hugs me. “Happy Birthday my
cariño, I hope you enjoyed your little cake this morning!”
Smiling, he says, “Your crazy Aunt Sofiá has gotten into another
financial crisis and so she is coming to stay with us starting
tomorrow. Your mama and I will have to go to Propatria station
to pick up Aunt Sofiá’s family.”
I frowned at him. “Crazy! But Aunt Sofiá is so kind to us, and
baby Alejandro is just so cute. How could you say such mean
things?”
Papá laughs, “She’s definitely crazy. If she stays with us due
to her financial crisis, we are going to be in a financial
crisis!”
His laugh is contagious and I shake my head. When we reach the
house, I’m surprised by the sight of my mother missing from her
usual spot in the kitchen washing dishes.
My father quickly reassured me, “Don’t worry Ximena, your mother
went to church to pray this morning.” Mama usually never went to
church on days that weren’t Sunday, but she had been recently
praying a lot about a miracle. She never told me exactly what
miracle she was praying about, but she told me that we were
protected and that God would save our family. When I looked in
the sink, there were still dirty dishes, so I decided to take up
the responsibility of washing them. My father went into his room
to do homework for his job.
When my mama came home from work, her face showed a hint of
mischief. She gave me an odd looking piece of paper. The last
time I saw a piece of paper, that wasn’t toilet paper, with
writing on it was during the National Socialist Celebration.
Many posters with smiling pictures of our leader were hung all
over the neighborhood. Newspapers were also handed all around
the town talking about the triumphs of the Venezuelan
government. This piece of paper was smaller than the posters and
newspapers, and it had pictures of what I assumed were boxes. My
mother was even more lively than her usual self. Being
thoroughly confused, I asked her what was going on. “Mama, what
happened? Did God bless us with that miracle you were talking
about?”
Her bright smile was like a flashlight, spreading light and joy.
She told me that she had found a secret broker who had books
that we could get. “His name is Mr. Jeremy Linden, he is from
the Namerican Republic. Mr. Linden told me that he was a
missionary in Caracas, and risked his safety by providing me
with this book catalog. Once you choose a book and I bring the
catalog back to him tomorrow, he will give it to us free of
charge!” My mother hugged me tightly, “My dear Ximena, you will
finally get the education that such an intelligent girl like
yourself needs!”
This news excited me, but I was also a bit wary. We learned in
school about how evil the Namerican people were, and how the
Namerican Republic was a country that made money from killing
people. “But won’t we get in trouble?”
Mama’s face became a little more serious after my inquiry. “The
only way to get in trouble is by reports, and nobody will report
us if they don’t know about this. I know that you I can trust
you, so I’m not worried.” On the top of the paper, there were
words reading “Señor Linden’s Biblioteca”. There were three
books to choose from, a fantasy book named Albateen’s Kingdom by
Mary Lockwood, a comic book called Molasses in Morocco by an
author whose name was in a different language, and a historical
book named The World’s Journey by Micah García. My mother
explained to me that each book was in a certain category called
a book genre. I immediately decided that I wanted to read the
informational book because I desperately wanted to learn about
the outside world. After telling my mother which book I wanted,
I got ready for bed swiftly. I couldn’t believe my fortune.
Finally, I could learn about the world, not just from my
parents, but other sources.
1/20/43 AT
On Saturday morning, I wake up filled with energy. I knew my
parents walked to pick up Aunt Sofiá from the Propatria Metro
station, so I went to the refrigerator to make my breakfast. We
had some of my mama’s leftover meat arepas from the previous
day. I took the arepas out and put them in the microwave. While
I was waiting, I skipped down our house’s only hallway and back
to the kitchen. That’s when I saw a book on the table. Squealing
in delight, I picked up the book and ruffled its pages. The
paper felt extremely smooth and smelled like a mix of coffee and
chocolate that the rich families bought at the supermarket. On
the back of the book, there was a letter in Spanish written by
Mr. Linden along with what looked like a plant made of paper.
Hola Ximena!
I am Mr. Linden from the Namerican Republic. Your mother has
told me about your great curiosity about the outside world. “The
World’s Journey” is an amazing read that will open your eyes. I
sincerely hope you enjoy the extremely well-written account by
Micah García. The green plant-like paper is called a bookmark.
Whenever you need to stop reading, just insert it on the last
page you were reading. The reason why I send you this letter is
to warn you of how careful you need to be. If you are caught
with this book by anybody, you risk your family’s lives. I
cannot stress how important it is to be exceptionally quiet
about the book.
Best,
Mr. Jeremy Linden
I skimmed through the letter then quickly opened the book. I
immediately became submerged in the magical words of the book.
It was divided into a large multitude of chapters describing
Micah García’s life and his political or historical insights on
almost every country in the world. While reading the book, I
learned the truth about the Namerican Republic, and how
far-fetched the stories that we were told were.
Suddenly, Mama, Aunt Sofiá, Uncle Santiago, and little Alejandro
burst through the door making me jump. I quickly dropped the
book back on the table with the odd-looking bookmark inserted
between the pages, ran up to them and hugged them tightly with
delight. Alejandro immediately pointed to me and laughed, and I
made a funny face back at him. He giggled and attempted to say
my name, “Heema!” I checked the time on our microwave and
realized how long I had read for. It was already an hour past
noon, and Mama was discussing our plans for lunch. “I’m sorry
hermana, we don’t have enough money for lunch like last time, I
made some arepas though.”
Uncle Santiago smiled gratefully, “That’s more than enough, we
are already greatly inconveniencing you, I cannot express how
thankful I am.” We ate our small lunch of my Mama’s meat arepas
while laughing and talking about how hard life was. My mother
told Aunt Sofiá about my book, and Aunt Sofiá patted me on the
back. She complimented me on my intelligence and told me that
she was proud. Aunt Sofiá and Mama’s smile ran in their family,
bright and beautiful. My face became flushed with humiliation,
and I thanked her.
After eating and talking for a while, Aunt Sofiá got up from the
table. “Thank you so much, I have to go work on some legal and
financial documents in the city, I will be back later.” My
mother nodded and waved goodbye. Once everybody was done eating,
I took Alejandro for a walk outside. Whenever I played with him,
he was always smiling, and running around or hopping with one
foot on top of another. Aunt Sofiá and Uncle Santiago’s kind
genes were definitely passed down to Alejandro, as he always
asked me if I wanted to play with his toys before he did. While
we were racing around in the neighborhood, we saw Aunt Sofiá
walking down the road back to our house. I ran up to her and
asked, “How did it go? Did you get more money?”
Aunt Sofiá shook her head, “I don’t know yet, I just gave them
my information.” I felt bad for her, I knew that she tried hard,
but due to the unfair living conditions of Venezuela, and
specifically the place she lived in, there was nothing that we
could do. I went inside the house with her and grabbed my book.
Right when I started reading again, I was swept into a zone
where I could visualize all the historical events described in
the book. During dinner, I could not take my eyes off the book,
so I ate while reading. This displeased my parents who scolded
me and told me to focus on my food.
Later that night, I got ready for bed earlier than I usually did
so I could read in bed. While I was wrapped up in my warm and
fuzzy blanket, I wondered why books weren’t allowed in
Venezuela. If books can be used to spread information and
educate, what’s wrong with the citizens of Venezuela being
educated? As I was wondering this, I put my bookmark in my book
and drifted off to sleep, exhausted from a day of reading.
1/20/43 AT
I quickly woke to a sharp knocking at the door. It was quite
dark outside, and my book was still laying by my side. While
being motivated by fear, I quickly shoved my book into my
backpack which only carried a few pieces of chalk. A few seconds
later, there was another barrage of rapping at the door.
“Policía, open up now!” I crawled slowly out of my bed and
peeked out of my room into the hallway. My mother and aunt ran
out of their rooms and quickly opened the door. Shortly after,
Aunt Sofiá reeled back into the kitchen wall, quivering in fear
from whatever she was looking at. A man bellowed, “You’re
required to come with us for interrogation about a book.” My
Mama didn’t make any noise and cooperated with the police. Aunt
Sofiá was still not complying, making the officer forcefully
take her. The officer asked if there was anybody else in the
family right when my father walked out of his room looking
dazed. A different person grabbed my father and took him. My
brain was functioning sluggishly due to the time, but then it
finally realized what was happening. I started panicking and
felt my hands clamp tightly around the edge of the wall. Because
I couldn’t think rationally, I began to sob loudly.
#Post#: 185--------------------------------------------------
Re: Harris Burdick Stories
By: [Vagen] Freeze Dried Date: November 8, 2018, 10:37 am
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That was when Uncle Santiago ripped me away from the wall and
whispered into my ear. “Ximena, this is a serious situation and
we have to go. Be quiet, you don’t want to be caught and taken
away. If we don’t we will meet the same fate as your parents.”
Horrified by this statement, I asked quietly, “What is going to
happen to them?”
He responded with a grim tone. “I don’t know exactly, but from
my experience as a police officer myself, the results weren’t
good. It’s a matter of time before the officials find out that
there were other people in the house. Right now we can’t do
anything about it, we can only hope for the best.” That was the
opposite of what I wanted to hear. The thought of what “results”
might affect Mama and Aunt Sofiá scared me. I felt so small and
useless. We can’t do anything about it, his words echoed through
my head over and over. Uncle Santiago quickly picked up
Alejandro from his hand-me-down crib and told me to follow him.
We took the side door out of the house and ran stealthily down
the street.
Tears ran down both of my cheeks. I felt exposed. If only I
hadn’t been so curious for knowledge. If only I considered the
risk before the reward. If only I hadn’t been so stupid, I
thought to myself. If only I hadn’t been so naive. It had only
been a few minutes, but I felt like it had been an eternity
since I saw the smiling faces of my parents. While I was
thinking this, I walked quietly behind Uncle Santiago until I
realized I had no idea about what we were doing. “Uncle, where
are we going?”
Without a moment of hesitation, he responded, “Maripérez
station. I have a friend who is stationed at El Cojo station to
guard the border. We can pay him to let us get across the border
into The Unified Bahamas to escape danger.” It took me many
moments to comprehend his statement. Let us get across the
border. That’s what he calmly told me. We were leaving
Venezuela.
Leaving.
Into The Unified Bahamas.
The only times I had heard of The Unified Bahamas were once at
school, and in the book that had caused so much trouble. On the
day of the National Socialist Celebration, my teacher told us
the story of how a traitor to Venezuela attempted to escape to
the cruel and barren Unified Bahamas. She taught us that
Venezuela had the strongest army and that the criminals were
apprehended before being executed. The book talked about how the
Unified Bahamas was a country that consists of the former
islands of The Bahamas and other Caribbean islands. It also
stated that The Unified Bahamas was the wealthiest country in
the world due to the skyrocketing profits from tourism. My
recollection was very effective at making my mood worsen. I knew
that my chances of surviving were low.
After perambulating through Caracas for what felt like at least
two hours, we finally reached Maripérez Station. The sun was
starting to rise, and the time was about 6 in the morning. It
was at that moment that Alejandro finally fell asleep from the
long walk of him speaking to us in fluent gibberish. Uncle
Santiago leads us up the stairs to the MetroCable station and
bought two full fare tickets. When I saw the price, my jaw
dropped to the ground. Each ticket was about one hundred
Bolivars and Uncle Santiago scanned his tattooed QR code to pay.
When we boarded the gondola, it was empty. At this point, I was
too tired to think properly, but also too stressed to fall
asleep. All I could do was gaze out of the windows at the dense
city vanishing behind me. When we reached El Cojo station,
Alejandro woke up and started pointing at the unfamiliar
landscape around us. He laughed with such innocence I couldn’t
help but give a tired smile. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the
luxury of relaxation. Uncle Santiago carried Alejandro on his
back as we ran towards the visible border between The Unified
Bahamas and Venezuela. The border was much less intimidating
than what my elementary school teacher taught us. It was just a
barbed wire fence guarded by many soldiers carrying formidable
guns. Uncle Santiago brought us to a house near the border,
while I looked around paranoid that we would be attacked. We
knocked on the door and a scruffy and dangerous looking man
appeared. The man immediately smiled when he saw Uncle Santiago
and clapped him on the back. They discussed our situation, and
Uncle Santiago gave the man our remaining money. After talking
for a few minutes, the man took us to an area with long and tall
grass. We were instructed to crawl through the grass to the
fence and climb through.
Uncle Santiago’s old friend chuckled, “I heard about three
people being on a top priority wanted list. You guys are
extremely fortunate, God bless you, may your future be bright.”
I asked, “Señor, do you know who reported us to the officials?”
He scratched his chin, “I don’t know how she found out, but her
name is Sofiá Bello. According to my boss, she made a fortune.
You better hurry up though, the rest of the guard might get
suspicious.” I felt extremely ill, and Uncle Santiago’s face
turned to an unhealthy pale color.
Without saying a word, my uncle quickly crawled towards the
border with Alejandro and lifted up the bottom. After pushing
Alejandro through the gap, Uncle Santiago climbed to the other
side. At that moment, my emotions suppressed by fatigue
regurgitated out of my body. I sobbed uncontrollably, thinking
about what was could’ve been happening to my parents. How could
this happen? Why would such a nice person like my aunt do such
evil? Waves of guilt swept over me, impairing my ability to
think rationally. Get a grip, it isn’t completely your fault.
Just get over the border, what’s so hard about it? One side of
me fought with the other, tearing my conscious apart. But if I
didn’t take the risk.
The risk.
I took that risk.
He had warned me about the book. Now it was too late.
I was suddenly shaken awake by a shout. “Ximena, there is no
time!” All of a sudden I felt something in my leg. Pain seared
through my body and I felt nauseous. Looking up, the scene
around me transformed into something I couldn’t comprehend.
Clawing on to the sandy ground, I yelled through my tears. I was
on fire, in a deep ravine I couldn’t escape. I was drowning in
an overload of vermilion air.
All I could think was, God, I need help! Someone, I need help!
Mother said we were protected….
Then everything went dark.
#Post#: 401--------------------------------------------------
Re: Harris Burdick Stories
By: [Vagen] William Date: November 13, 2018, 6:46 pm
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Komischer Flex, aber ok
#Post#: 402--------------------------------------------------
Re: Harris Burdick Stories
By: [Vagen] Freeze Dried Date: November 13, 2018, 6:54 pm
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WTF DID I ASK YOU FOR YOUR HARRIS BURDICK? NO I DIDN'T THAT'S
ONE TOO MANY TIMES CHILL CHEESE!
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