Taking a Stroll And Getting Stuck//Fallow Tensbury [Open]

[spoink]

I had been wandering for over an hour. I had passed the orchard that my mother worked in, and I had walked by the school-house I attended. My feet were starting to ache, but I had to keep walking. I had to get away from my problems, and walking was the only way I knew how. The freshly blossomed leaves had fully sprouted on the trees, and the lush sights of deep green danced, being pushed around by the faint wind. Soon I would have to return home, where I would ask my mother how her day had been, the same way I had for as long as I could remember, and then she would tell me how wonderful it was, even though I knew she was covering up the fact that the Peacekeepers kept her in line. How if she nibbled on a piece of fruit she smuggled into her pockets, she would be attacked. I remember the first time she came home with a black-eye. She told me she had tripped and hurt her eye, but even I knew that when you fall, a fist-sized bruise wouldn't appear on your face.

As I walked, I noticed that the dirt road I was traveling on was starting to get darker in colour. The light tan was slowly turning into an ugly, deep brown. I shrugged the change off, believing that walking through fire would be better than going back home. The familiar pitter-patter of my footsteps became slower and deeper sounding. Suddenly, I took a single step more and my foot sunk down. My leg, up to my shin, was buried in deep, dark, mud. I tried to pull my leg up, but I was stuck. I kept telling myself not to freak out, but the only thought going through my mind was how many baths I would have to take to gt clean again.

"Help! Can anybody help?!" I screamed out. I knew I was wasn't going to get out of this easily, and I would need someone to help me out. "I'm stuck! Help!" I didn't know how long I would be stuck, but while I waited for help, I continued to yank on my leg, trying my hardest to pull it out.

[Sarella]

Maybe Cotton

I grab Peter's hand and he pulls me out of the hole. Taking a few steps, I shake as much dirt as I can out of my hair. Being in the graves didn't bother me anymore, I knew I would be helped out sooner or later once I finished digging. It has been days since I was last beaten, and I was using the strength I had gained to get ahead on work for the inevitable time I couldn't. I wave to Peter, forcing a smile to get him off my back. He turns, and I turn away as well.

I decide to leave the Cemetery, against my dad's orders. The setting was never too gloomy for me, but I needed something different every now and then to keep me from going stir crazy. Fighting open the gate, I leave it open when I walk out. I take to a familiar path, though it wasn't too pleasant this time of year. I watch the ground for signs of quicksand, careful to test the ground before me with a twig. The possibilities excited me, in my hard-to-excite state.

"Help!" I hear. My head shoots up, immediately scanning my surroundings. "Can anybody help?!" the plea is repeated. I begin to walk faster, shoving the stick into the ground before every step. Eventually I see a boy with his leg up to his knee in the mud. I immediately recognize it as quicksand and throw my arms around his chest. Planting my feet firmly on the solid ground I yank at him with all my strength. The muscles in my sides scream with not-yet-healed pain, but I ignore it when he pops out and the force of my pulling sends him flying towards me.

I fall backwards, putting my hands out and shoving him off of me before he can land. I hear him thud on the ground next to me and get up. "You should watch your step," I say, smoothing one side of my crazed hair. I hated letting anyone see me.